Blood Shall Rule
by nvt.brightfyre
Summary: When Damon Targaryen is suddenly sent back in time, with many more of the vampires, witches and humans of Mystic Falls, he encounters Rhaegar Targaryen's children and starts his adventure in old Westeros. Rhaegar Targaryen's children, on the other hand, suffer from their father's new found madness. Aegon, Lyanna and her twin children shall deal with him.
1. Sands of the Time

_Hello everybody!_

 _This is my second cross-over fic of both TVD and ASOIAF. It actually crosses paths with both the Originals and Game of Thrones (yeah, the TV show) as well.  
_

 _I note that in this universe Westeros and Essos are actually a part of our own world, I did this so I could mention some references in the story, like when Damon thinks of Shakespeare._

 _I need to add that the idea of this fic actually came to me while reading A Red Sun Rises in AO3, and I recomman you to read it as well. It is a great fic._

 _And finally the disclaimer: I don't own any characters of ASOIAF or TVD, they all belong to George R. R. Martin, Julie Plec and L. J. Smith -well, except for Nymeria and a few other minor characters._

 _Enjoy!_

 _ **Damon:**_

At first Damon thought it was how the other side worked, or better to say how a world without the other side worked. But he opened his eyes to find himself alive, at least half alive, he had not been truly alive for the past century and half. Beside him laid Elena, or _wait_... Was she really Elena? She did not look like her that much. _Kathrine_. Damon thought.

If he was sure he was alive now he was sure that he was dead. Like dead-dead, fully and completely dead. Because Kathrine had died weeks ago, they had made sure of that.

Nonetheless, the older vampire woke up with a start and looked at Damon like he was some sort of a ghost. Which he probably was.

"Where the hell are we?" She asked.

Damon looked around one more time, they were surely in a forest, and he could even smell a stag somewhere not far away. The question was which forest where they in? As much as he could see it was just that, forest with no sign of civilization.

"I have no idea." He answered her, but it was more to himself.

They made no questions about why they were together, none of eager to talk about the other one. It was better to keep their chatter out of the things that were related to themselves rather than the world around them.

The first thing that came to his mind after that was, "I'm starving." He declared.

"You can't starve. But yes, I need blood too." Kathrine corrected him.

"Whatever, I think I can do with a stag for now." He decided. He was _that_ much hungry.

So they went after the stag they had felt earlier and brought it down. Damon took no more than a sip. He was so wrong, he preferred mummifying rather than drinking stag. How could Stefan tolerate this?

"Wait a moment," Kathrine stopped drinking, "If we are really dead..."

She did not need to complete her sentence, if they were really dead, they would not be hungry. And there would be no stag around them.

"We're not dead then." Damon said. But something stopped him from musing any further, the sound of hooves filled the air and a few moments later, three riders came into view.

Another question popped to his mind which he shared in low tone with Kathrine, "Forget about where, _when_ the hell are we?"

The riders were dressed in utterly old fashioned riding outfits. There was a girl and two boys, each riding huge destriers. Every bit of them was medieval, but what took Damon's attention was their coat of arms. The boy with silver hair wore all black and there was a three headed dragon on his jerkin. The girl and the other boy were both dark haired and had a dragon and a direwolf halved in the middle of their sigil.

That discovery made Damon wondering whether it was some sort of a movie studio or screen recording. Whenever they were, those sigils were just for décor, they could not really exist.

All those musings left them there with no idea of what to say and no time to disappear into the woods. Damon did not care, if anything went wrong, they could always eat the passengers.

And then he looked at their faces. There was nothing wrong with the dark haired ones, but rather the silver haired one. He was Klaus, or he looked like him, only his hair and eye color were different and he looked a bit younger, as well. His eyes were a deep violet, unless Klaus wore contact lenses, this was his doppelgänger.

"Good morn, good folks." The sentence which was said by Klaus' look-alike sounded hilariously like a script from Shakespeare.

"Good morning to you, my lords." Kathrine curtsied to the riders, collecting herself from her earlier shock by the appearance of the man. This was her Katerina side, the old fashioned lady. Good, because Damon did not know what to say.

Before Klaus-like lord could hold the reins of his horse into place, Kathrine remembered a question of theirs.

"I apologize, my lord, but I suppose we're lost. Where's the closest village?" She asked.

This time the girl answered them, "You're far from the road, but there's no village around but King's Landing itself."

King's Landing. At least they were still in Westeros, evidently they had had a time jump.

"We can guide you back there, of course if you do not mind being a bit late." The first boy spoke up.

Kathrine seized the chance, they would not lose their snack just like that, "If it does not bothers my lords."

The girl laughed pleasantly, "Of course it does not. Does it, Jon?" She asked the other boy, who was not paying attention at all.

"What? Oh...surely it doesn't." The boy, Jon, replied distantly.

With the silvery lord's invitation, Damon climbed his horse and sat behind him while Kathrine was seated behind the girl.

"You were lucky that we often ride off the route, you could have been lost easily, a good pry for bandits." Klaus-like one said.

Damon suppressed a smirk, bandits would become their dinner. Of course after showing them the right way.

"Anyway, I don't believe we know your names." The girl said.

"I'm Kathrine, my lady, Kathrine Pierce." It was good that she did not use her 'Petrova' name, it sounded weird to Damon.

"And I'm Damon," he paused for a second, he could not just say Targaryen, because these guys were obviously Targaryens, "Damon Salvatore." He used his mother's maiden name, it was the first to pop into his mind.

"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, good ser, my lady," Klaus-like one said -Damon hoped he would introduce himself otherwise Damon might call him by that name- he turned his head so he would see Kathrine, "I'm Aegon Targaryen and these are my siblings, Aemon and Visenya."

Damon changed his mind about Kathrine's real name, it was very easy to pronounce. Of course he had heard of Targaryen names, but the boy's accent when he said those names was just too much.

"Brother, you should stop calling us by those names." Visenya argued.

"Oh, sure. Let me correct myself, their preferred names are Nymeria and Jon." Aegon grinned.

The girl's name stayed at the same level of oddness but the boy's one was a whole lot simpler. Damon stopped in the middle of that thought, the names, Nymeria and Visenya, Jon and Aemon, and an Aegon to go on with. He barely managed not to gasp, this was an old tale her mother used to tell him when he was a child. He had been so dumb not to notice it earlier, their sigils was enough to know.

Behind Nymeria, Kathrine became tense as well, clearly recalling the same thing. Damon cursed his memory of his childhood. He could do well to remember more. He needed to remember that story if they were to live with it. He could only remember scary frozen monsters and loads of violent wars, a few big wolves and some dragons. Those did not helped that much. Not really.

They soon stopped in a semi-clearing and dismounted their horses. Vampire or not, Damon had some problems with horse-riding, it hurt too much for his taste and sitting with yet another person on the back of some war horse did no help.

"I hope you are not in hurry, because we would be here for quite some time." Nymeria said.

"There is no problem, unless it is going to take more than a day." Damon tried his best to use a more formal tone. He was not sure whether they were royalty or just lords and lady. His memories of those stories were so distant.

Aegon grinned, "It would not be that long, I assure you we will get back as soon as the sun sets or even before that. Just enough for our royal father to calm down a bit." He stole a look to Jon who was brooding. Nymeria frowned at Aegon's words, like it was something that he was not supposed to say. Nevertheless the statement made Damon make a conclusion that they were royalty.

Neither Damon nor Kathrine did not press the matter. Instead they watched as Aegon took out a skin of wine and it circled among them, each taking a sip, even Jon the Brooder took a sip or two. Before that day, Damon thought that Stefan was the most brooding person in the whole history, Jon outbeat him.

They started talking and it was time to form a background story for themselves. Kathrine took the responsibility of that part.

"We come from a village far from here. There was some events..." She made an 'I don't want to talk anymore of it' face.

It must have worked, because Nymeria nodded in an understanding way. Jon looked sympathetic. Damon supposed that he had had some experiences with that sort of things.

Aegon shifted awkwardly, "Let's do something." He got up from where he sat on a fallen branch.

Nymeria made a mischievous grin and got to her feet, but stopped midair, "They may not like it." She probably meant them.

"Oh, please go on." Kathrine said nicely.

"See? They don't have a problem." Aegon grinned.

At any rate, Damon had no idea what the siblings were up to until Jon's hand moved to the hilt of his sword.

He drew a very fine castle forged blade with his own coat of arms as its hilt. His act was soon followed by his sister and brother, each drawing their own swords. They wanted to swordfight.

It gave Damon relief to know that at least this girl was not one of those super ladies who would sit in a room all day and embroider something. He watched with amusement as Nymeria managed to disarm Aegon and moved to engage with her less-fun brother. Damon was surprised that the boy really knew what he was doing, he disarmed his sister in less than three simple moves, "You should try harder, sister." He beamed at her while he helped her back to her feet. It was the first time that he actually spoke with his own will.

Nym made a low growl, "No matter how much I try, you are always trying harder." She said.

Aegon looked at Damon, "Do you want a turn, Damon?" He offered Damon his sword.

"It would be a pleasure, Prince Aegon." He smirked and took his sword.

It felt well-balanced but Damon did not have much of a practice with swords, except for some basic trainings back in the days when he was human and serving in the military. Prince Brooding -which was the name he had given to Jon in his mind- held up his sword, ready to defend himself.

Even though Damon had always been told to not to strike first, he could not wait, it was not important at all. He would win anyway, he was a vampire. Knowing that, he made the first move and lunged to Jon's left, where his defenses was down. Jon easily blocked the blow and took one small step forward, trying to get Damon in the lower body. Had he not been a vampire, he would have been gutted with that blow, but he managed to move his sword and block his way just in time. He would not let this boy win. He charged once more at Jon, this time pretending to mean the sword for his left side but he changed the direction in the last second.

Apparently it was not truly the last second, Jon blocked that easily as well and made another move that could have cost Damon his head if Jon had really meant to harm Damon. He threw himself back to avoid the blow and gave Jon another moment to lunge before he could get back to his feet.

"Go easy on him, brother." Damon heard Aegon say.

If this was Jon's hard work, then was no worry, it would take some time before he was disarmed. Damon managed to strike Jon in the shoulder because of that comforting thought, of course the sword made no more damage than a mere cut. Jon did not even flinch, his attacks became more calculated and he did not give any more opening to Damon. Unlike Damon had expected, the boy had not became tense or angry. It was bad, Jon was turning out to be rather a well-trained swordsman.

He had spent too much time musing over Jon that he had given the boy an opening. Jon locked his sword in Damon's one and pushed it out of his hand, causing it to fall to the ground. Then in one swift move, he had the tip of his sword pointed to Damon's heart, "Surrender." Jon commanded him.

Damon could see Kathrine smirking at his defeat, he could not take it. So without a second thought, he grabbed Jon's sword and felt it cut his palms as he drew it to himself. Jon was smart enough to let go of his sword instead of being dragged with it. As Damon had suspected, the boy had another weapon with himself, which was a dagger. It could not help him, of course. But he took it out anyway and lunged forward at Damon. Damon expected nothing from the dagger. It turned out to be the understatement of the year, Jon was too fast in his movements -not as fast as a vampire, but close enough- and Damon was too optimistic. He had counted on a last minute defense, but Jon had never wanted to plunge his dagger to Damon's skin. A light touch and Damon felt he was on fire, he saw his jacket smoking from a real little heat. The dagger in Jon's hand, now shone with red veins in it. The guy was a Targaryen for sure.

He had let go of Jon's sword without even knowing. Now the look on Kathrine's face was simply acceptable for Damon as a sign of his defeat. He could not deny the fact that Jon was better than even a vampire -of course with his tricks, otherwise Damon would have won the match.

"It was a good fight, Salvatore." Jon said as he sheathed his dagger and Damon handed him back his sword.

"Not so fair, though. You cheated, my prince." Damon said, trying not to look at Kathrine's direction. The vampire was probably laughing her guts out, but in silence.

"You should have surrendered." There was a playful glint in the boy's eyes. Damon wanted to drain the boy's blood at that moment.

"Worry not, you are not the first person that loses to my brother in such way, nor will you be the last." Aegon assured him.

Damon intended to make it the last. But with a second thought he decided to wait, he could not simply kill a prince and get away with it nor could he compel his way to get away with such crime.

 ** _Bonnie:_**

It was cold, like, very cold. Bonnie shivered in her jacket and opened her eyes lazily, but the cold wind stung her eyes, so she just shut them again instantly.

Wait a minute. She thought to herself and a second later she jerked fully awake. All around her was snow and tall, dark trees. Next to her lay Jeremy. So either she was not dead or Jeremy had died.

A moment later Jeremy woke up as well, looking wildly around himself until he stopped his gaze on Bonnie.

"Where are we?" He asked her.

"I've got no idea." Bonnie replied.

"The spell...Liv's spell. It must've gone wrong at some point." Jeremy concluded as he tried to get up and warm himself using his own arms

.

Bonnie found a semi-dry branch and cast a fire spell on it. At least it could warm their hands. Another relief was that she could actually do magic. She realized that after a second.

"We need to find..." Shelter, Bonnie wanted to say, but a group of riders stopped her from saying anything at all.

"Um...they don't look like _modern_ people." Jeremy said.

And they did not, they were half a dozen men all wrapped in furs and heavy cloaks, riding huge stallions and coming their way. Bonnie decided that they did not look like Eskimo, so they could not be in North Pole.

They stopped as they reached them. Their leader was a man with dark brown hair and beard, he looked down at them, "What is your business here, folks?" He asked them.

Jeremy took the responsibility to talk, although he looked equally dazed from the horsemen, "We're lost, my lord."

Bonnie wondered where he had gotten that 'my lord' thing, but it seemed appropriate.

"We lost the road. Please, my lord, we need shelter." Jeremy did a little puppy eye thing just to add more effect.

The leader nodded at his men, "Give these folks horses, we will ride back to Winterfell." He announced.

Bonnie narrowed her eyes at the mention of the place, Winterfell was the name of the old ruins near Mystic Falls, they were certainly back in time, but not so far away in distance.

"So, what do two wanderers like you seek in the North?" Another whiskery man asked, he was older, to be sure.

"We go where there is work." Bonnie said. She realized that she had not added any proper title to her sentence and it was too late, anyway she did not know who this man was, maybe a lord or just some knight.

"And what would your names be?" Their leader spoke up once more.

"I'm Jeremy Gilbert, my lord, and this is my friend, Bonnie Bennett." Jeremy said.

"Do you know who I am?" The man asked them. They were surely in an awkward situation.

Bonnie looked at the riders, they bore no sigil save for all of them had some grey color here or there. There was no other indication to help.

"I'm sorry my lord, but I'm afraid we don't." Since when had Jeremy became so polite and formal?

"Well, I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and the North." The man said, kinder this time.

So he was a Stark. Bonnie should have guessed when he had said Winterfell, but she had never supposed that Starks actually did exist. Did this mean that real Targaryens -not Blackfyre descendants like Damon and Stefan who were just named Targaryen- existed as well?

"I'm sorry my lord, we should have known you." Jeremy used his formal voice once more, he was really good at it.

Did he read fantasy books like Lord of the Rings? Bonnie wondered.

"There is naught to be sorry about, Jeremy Gilbert," he nodded knowingly, "Although I do wonder how such a well-spoken couple are not wandering in the woods like this without even knowing where they are."

They really needed some story as soon as possible. Bonnie sought to that part, "We are not Westerosi, my lord," they were, but they did not belong to that particular timeline, "We come from a village far from Westeros."

That should have been enough. Lord Eddard did not sounded like the type that would ask too many a question, and thankfully he did not.

 _ **Kathrine:**_

Aegon was nothing like Klaus, at least when it came to paranoia and madness. Kathrine was thankful for that. The first time she had met Aegon back in the woods, she had been too afraid to notice that he could not have been Klaus.

Nonetheless, she could not stop marveling at how this thing was even possible. Aegon was not really a doppelgänger, he could never be one according to what Qetsiyah had said. And he had more differences with Klaus than just hair and eye color. He was leaner and even a tad more handsome than Klaus. But as far as Kathrine knew, Klaus had no relations with Targaryens. The prince, on the other hand, was a pure Targaryen, though his mother was northerner.

Aegon, Jon and Nymeria had brought them to Red Keep with themselves, stating that they could stay with them and be their companions. Personally, Kathrine had no problem with it. It was that or they had to stay in the filthy streets of Kings Landing and compel their way to get some gold and somewhere to sleep in. Kathrine hated that sort of lifestyle.

Now they had been in the luxury of a castle for almost a day. She had not seen anyone of special importance since her arrival other than the princess and the two princes.

She had been honored by the personal handmaid of Nymeria to tend to her works. Kathrine was glad to have a hot bath in her room just the way she had been used to for some centuries till the twentieth century. It felt like a nostalgia in some sorts.

As Lyla helped her into her dress, Kathrine tried to compel her to get some information. It did not work. She tried it multiple times and nothing happened. She was sure that the girl was not on vervain, yet her compulsion had no effect.

She quickly dressed and left her hair loose on her shoulders in a rush to share her experiment with Damon.

"I know," Damon responded to the news, "I tried it with the servant that brought me lunch. It doesn't work."

"So what the hell should we do? I can't live like this!" Kathrine was frustrated. Over the centuries she had compelled her way amongst people, she could not just forget everything about it.

"So are we trapped here?" She said after she got no answer from Damon to her first question.

"I don't even know whether we're dead or alive." Damon frowned at her.

"We must be alive. Being dead is...different. You don't feel hunger or pain." Kathrine said.

"Ah, I forgot you are an expert." Damon smirked.

"Shut up, Damon Targaryen. And I see the only thing that you're an expert at is losing from broody princes."

"You were killed by a broody vampire who you loved." Damon reminded her.

She wanted to answer with something like how she was killed by multiple -at least two- people, but sound of footsteps stopped her.

Three men were coming their way, two of them wore white armor and white cloaks, but the one in the middle wore a black velvet doublet with Targaryen dragon on it. His silvery hair followed to his shoulders and his dark violet eyes glittered madly. He was surely the king himself, the very same man that the Targaryen siblings had been running from the last day when they found Damon and Kathrine.

She made a prefect curtsy as she stepped out of his way. He did not look mad or fearsome at all, except for his eyes. But if those old wives' tales were true, he had not been mad in the first place, he had been rather the glorious and gentle prince of Dragonstone who had fought a war to stay with his beloved Stark girl rather than his first Dornish wife. But Kathrine did not believe in those stories that much, they said that the king -whatsoever his name was- had been gravely disfigured in his battle with something Baratheon -Robett, maybe- but the man Kathrine saw was handsome without a doubt.

The king, however, paid no attention to her curtsy or her existence at all, and continued his way. When they finally passed them, Kathrine and Damon made their way to the gardens around the vast castle.

"We need to get close to the royal family." She said in a low voice when they were safely in the gardens. It was unlikely that anyone could hear them without being heard by a pair of vampires, but she did it just in case.

"Why so? Are you going to rule this place?" Damon asked her.

"Maybe, who knows," she smiled, "But, anyway, we are probably trapped in this timeline for quite some time. We will be needing entertainment and power."

"If entertainment means Bourbon, then yes, we need it." Damon joked.

"I mean it, Damon." She frowned.

"Of course you do, what is Kathrine Pierce without her plots and schemes?" Damon was back to his arrogant self that had entertained Kathrine back at 1864.

"Back to the topic; we need to remain close to Targaryens."

"Yes, you can offer the princess to be her lady-in-waiting, if that's what they call them. And I can become a companion of both princes, while Jon is insufferably like Stefan, Aegon seems quite good for my taste." Damon said.

"I suppose his Klaus-like face doesn't bother you, then." Kathrine said. Nonetheless, what Damon had said, had been her plan more or less.

"Does it bother you? I mean, you're afraid of Klaus." Damon smirked at her angry face.

"Don't go too far, Damon Salvatore." She emphasized on his new-made last name.


	2. Take Me Home, Country Roads

**Chapter Two: Take Me Home, Country Roads**

 _ **Notes:**_

Hello there!

So here is an update that is posted sooner than planned because I just felt like posting it! Anyways enjoy this chapter and tell me where else do you want me to put the TVD characters and what's your OTP. I'm looking forward to suggestions, because there are a whole lot of characters that are coming from the modern times and even from the land of the dead (I meant Kathrine) and I'm certainly going to put Alaric somewhere in Westeros.

Enjoy!

 ** _Chapter Summary:_** Damon and Kathrine start playing the game. Elena has the worst week ever. Jon is having hard times.

 _ **Nymeria:**_

Nym frowned at the dress that Lyla had picked for her. It was too lady-like, most of all, it was like one of those dresses that Lady Stockworth loved.

"I will never wear such thing, Lyla, not even if it's a royal event with all of the great lords of the kingdom. Get me something simple, it's just a normal supper with my mother." Nym said. She would have never wanted a maid, if it had been up to her. But her mother had insisted to have one, because she was a princess and she refused to accept anyone as a lady-in-waiting of herself. She hated the foolish chatter of the court ladies, and all they could do was that and sewing endlessly. She could not stand sewing, and thankfully her mother was just like her, so she had never taken a septa to learn that.

Now, she just wished that she had someone wiser than Lyla, she was a good girl, but she was trained to serve a real princess, Nym did not act like one when it

came to some particular things, like dressing.

A knock on the door saved her from the floral patterned dress that Lyla had chosen as 'simple'. "Come in," Nym called.

The door opened and Kathrine came in, "I hope I'm not bothering you, Princess."

Nym waved her hand as if to dismiss the matter, "You can call me Nym when we are not in public. And you are just on time. Maybe you can show Lyla what I mean by a simple dress."

Then she looked at Kathrine's outfit and her hope was turned to ash, Kathrine was dressed in one of her most adorned clothes -Nym had let her use her wardrobe- the dress was a bright red and pleated with loose sleeves and it was floral. When Kathrine held up a dress for her that looked like what Nym wanted, she was surprised.

"There you go. Lyla, help her dress." Kathrine commanded Lyla.

Lyla helped Nym get into the dark grey dress that had only a silver belt as its sole adornment. Even the sleeves were tight and covered her hands almost up to her fingers. Nym decided that she liked it.

She then put on the necklace that she always wore, the direwolf and dragon of her sigil. Kathrine stopped Lyla from doing her hair and did it herself. When she was finished, Nym's dark hair was braided carefully multiple times before all of it was braided into one fascinating braid. Nym looked at her image in the looking-glass and smiled, satisfied. Braids were her favorite in any shape.

"Thank you, Kathrine." She smiled at her.

After Lyla was gone, Nym got up and offered Kathrine a chair in the solar that adjoined to her bedchambers.

"I was surprised that you really knew what I like to wear." She grinned at Kathrine.

"I wasn't sure you would like it. I, myself, like fancier things, but I can do with some simple things, as well." She replied.

Nym smiled once more, "I suppose you know that until this day I have rejected any offer of companionship from the ladies of the court."

"I had guessed so."

"But I want to make one exception, will you accompany me, Kathrine? You are a whole lot better than all those power-hungry courtiers."

Kathrine bowed her head, "It'd be a pleasure, Nym."

Nym liked it that she had obeyed her earlier order of calling her by her name rather than title.

"Then would you dine with me and the Queen," Nym asked her, "I want to introduce you to her."

"Of course I will." Kathrine got up to start her newly taken job.

 _ **Kathrine:**_

It was working, Nym had just named Kathrine as her companion. And now they were going to meet Queen Lyanna, Kathrine was progressing quickly.

Nym led her through the chambers and corridors of the keep until they reached the queen's solar. At first Kathrine had thought she would see the king and two princes, but apparently they were to dine alone.

A maid opened the door and announced their arrival to the queen as she led them inside. The room was cooler than the normal heat of the castle, and it opened to a balcony, which its door was open at that time, letting a cool breeze in.

The table was not yet sat, except for the empty plates and goblets which were sat for two rather than three people.

The queen sat at the top of the table, she stood up as she saw them. She was not as old as Kathrine had expected, she was roughly thirty-five and she looked even younger than that. If one did not know, would mistake her as Nym's older sister rather than her mother.

And she looked like Nym, as well, her dark brown hair followed loose on her shoulders and her dark eyes shone with a wild spirited joy.

Nym introduced her mother as Queen Lyanna, who smiled pleasantly at Kathrine, "It needs a great deal of skill to become Nym's companion, you know." She told Kathrine.

"You honor me, your grace." Kathrine replied, equally pleasant and delicate.

The queen beamed again and ordered a servant to arrange another seat for Kathrine. A few minutes later, they were sat around the table and the courses had started to come out.

Kathrine had ever tasted such things even back in sixteenth century when most of the things were similar to when she was now. The food was the most delicious thing -except for blood, of course- that she had ever tasted.

She grabbed another morsel of the honeyed pork that was sprinkled with crushed nuts. She did not miss the observing looks that Queen Lyanna gave her from time to time, nor did she miss her final satisfied gaze as her observing ended. Apparently, Kathrine was qualified to be Lyanna's daughter's company.

Later that night, the brothers joined them as well. Jon and Aegon both looked tired, Kathrine had seen them sword playing in the courtyard with a member of King's Guard observing their every movement. The boys refused to eat anything, stating that they were rather thirsty than hungry.

So their goblets were filled once more with Dornish Red -it was the name that Aegon called it by, Kathrine did not know what it was. It was sweet and sour at the same time, another delightful taste, Kathrine decided.

"Today Father graced us with his presence while we were training." Aegon stated.

Kathrine did not miss the fact that this meant she was not an outsider anymore. She could help but to smile at how easy-trusting these Targaryens were.

The queen looked concerned, "Did he say anything?"

"Nothing of special importance." He mumbled with a tone that made Kathrine sure that he had said something of importance.

Lyanna raised a brow, "What did he say, Jon?" She asked her son.

Aegon spoke up instead of his brother, "He said that Jon should be a better swordsman considering the amount of time he spends in training yard."

Kathrine remembered that King Rhaegar had showed hatred toward his youngest son. No wonder Jon was this much solemn and grim.

Nym frowned at what Aegon said and Jon simply looked like he hated himself for what his father had said. Lyanna looked angry, probably at her husband, but she kept a kind mask on her face as she reached her hand to her youngest son.

"You mustn't take his words by heart. You know how he is." She smiled kindly at Jon.

The boy forced a smile to his lips that faded in a heartbeat, "I know."

 _ **Elena:**_

From all possible people in the world to get stuck with in a weird dimension of time and space, Elena was with Klaus Mikaelson. They had woke up in the middle of a forest a few days before.

Klaus had not changed much since they had last met before Silas had come back. If anything, he looked even more annoying than the last few months.

"It's not like I wished to be here with you, luv." He said to her as they were going toward the small cottage that was placed in the middle of a farm.

As they got closer, Elena's steps became slower while her heart beat quickened. The two men that were working some few dozen feet away, did not look like modern people. When Elena looked at the house with a more observing look, it did not look like any normal twenty-first century kind of cottage.

Were they in middle ages? Maybe Klaus could say, he had been there at those times. However stunned he was, he concealed it well. He made his way to the nearest farmer.

"Can you tell me where and when are we?" Klaus asked the man, seemingly trying to compel him.

The man frowned with doubt, as if he knew their question was weird, "You're in Riverlands. Don't you know?" He said.

Elena and Klaus exchanged a look, Klaus' compulsion had not worked. Klaus tried that again, with no result other than that the man thought them crazy.

They stalked off soon, the only information they had got was that they were in Riverlands. But this certainly did not look like modern Riverlands, rather a very old fashioned one.

"When are we?" Elena asked from Klaus, of course he did not know but maybe he could give some approximate date -at least tell her which century it was.

"I don't know. I've never seen Riverlands in such shape. Close, but not like this." Klaus replied, for the first time he sounded like some normal human rather than a paranoid hybrid.

"So you say we are more than eight centuries back in time?" Elena was doubtful.

"It might be so."

By the night time, Elena had fed on a deer while Klaus had already killed two people. Without compulsion, they had to either drink quickly from humans without getting enough blood or kill their prey. Elena refused to kill, she was used to drinking from blood bags, but she could never kill. Klaus, however, had no problem with that.

That night they finally found an inn, in a town that they said was Saltpans, it looked nothing like the Saltpans Elena knew of. Klaus ordered her to keep a mask of a foreigner.

So they went in and pretended that they had come from Europe, Elena tried to convince herself that these people knew where Europe was. Luckily, they seemed to know.

"We are travelers, we found our way to Westeros, but we don't much of it." Klaus started talking to the inn keeper.

"Is it so? You speak the Common Tongue very well." The man said.

"In some parts of Europe they speak the Common Tongue." Elena reasoned the man, realizing that Common Tongue was in fact English. It was common after all.

"Can you give us some details?" Klaus asked, obviously trying not to use his standard 'bossy' tone.

"Well, where do you want me to start?" The innkeeper asked.

"Maybe telling us who is ruling Westeros." Elena asked. It was silly, but their only way to find out when they were without getting to suspecting.

"Rhaegar Targaryen, of course. He is not as mad as his father -Aerys was the maddest ruler that Westeros have ever seen- but close enough," the man paused, and Elena readied herself for some gossip, at least that way they could know more, "They say he had even disowned his own son, Prince Aemon. His first wife ran back to Dorne years ago, taking her first child, Princess Rhaenys with herself. But Rhaegar didn't let her to take his heir as well, you know, Prince Aegon," the man shrugged, "Rhaegar was gallant and a prefect prince, but after the war he changed."

"What war?" Elena asked.

The inn keeper frowned at her, "Why, Robert's Rebellion, I can still remember it as if it had been yesterday. The whole Seven Kingdoms was torn into pieces."

Elena had no idea what all these were about, but Klaus's face was deeply shadowed by bewilderment and recognition.

That night, when they left the inn -after they had remembered they had no money nor could they compel people to have a room- Klaus told her all of it.

"It's an old story," he began, "A legend, I had thought, but I guess it's true. My mother used to tell of it, she said that it had happened two hundred years before we were born."

"So it means that we're trapped in a world that belongs to more than a thousand years ago?" Elena asked and when Klaus nodded, another question popped into her mind, "So why is everything so, uh, civilized? Shouldn't it be like Dark Ages?"

"Westeros and Essos were once advanced in such things. It's like the middle ages in Europe. I don't know why, but they did not keep up with the world. In my time, we lived like normal European people in those days," Klaus was far from his normal self now, "Anyway, back to the story, as that man said, Rhaegar is a mad king, with four children, Rhaenys, Aegon and the twins from his second wife -her name's Lyanna Stark- that are called Visenya and Aemon, but they are mostly known for their non-Targaryen names, Nymeria and Jon, if I remember correctly. However the main story is about how the twins deal with war raging in Westeros and beyond the Wall. I suppose you know what the Wall is, don't you?"

"That big icy thing? You say it really exists?" Elena raised her brow. She had heard of it, she had even saw the ruins of Castle Black when she and her family had went to a trip near Winterlands, but she had never believed it had ever existed. As she thought back at it, she recalled misty memories of the story that Klaus was now telling her, but she did not remember them vividly.

"I'd never thought it to be true, either, luv." This was the 'normal' Klaus.

"So, we basically know what is going to happen next?"

"Maybe, maybe not. I don't remember any more details and I hope that we'll get out of this inferno as soon as possible. If you weren't here, I would've blamed some certain witch rivals of mine for this little time jump." It left no doubt that Klaus back to his standard manners.

"So what do we do now? We can't compel people and we have no money." Elena sighed.

"Vampires can live without money, after all, money buys food and our food is free." Klaus stood up from the fallen tree that he had been using as a bench.

"Come now, we need some snack before leaving." He continued.

"Leaving for where?" Elena demanded him, it sounded as if Klaus had some plan.

"Why, luv, we're going to find some great lord and get into their household. There should be plenty of them." Klaus did not bother to stop, he increased his speed toward the road south. "I suppose we will find some in the capital."

 _ **Aegon:**_

Aegon and Damon stopped to talk to Jon Connington, the hand of the king. He was coming back from the Small Council meeting and that look on his face did not mean good news.

"Lord Connington," Aegon addressed the Hand formally, "Would you give us a moment?"

"Of course, Aegon." He managed a feeble smile to Aegon. He was always trying to be a father figure to Aegon and his siblings, he had some sort of unofficial competition with Arthur Dayne in that matter.

Aegon led Damon and Jon Connington to his mother's gardens, it was a better place to talk of such things than within the galleries of the castle.

"He is getting worse, I'm afraid." Griffjon started, knowing what Aegon wanted to ask.

"What did he do this time?" Aegon tried not to sigh. His father was getting madder by day, and half of his madness was directed at Jon -Aegon's brother, not the Hand- and the other half at the kingdom.

"He thinks Viserys is plotting against him. He even went as far as accusing Jon for assisting Viserys to overthrow him. We barely managed to calm him down before he could send his men after Jon to get him."

"Is it that bad?" Damon frowned.

Aegon had almost forgotten that the sell sword -as Damon called himself one- was there, but it did not matter, Aegon trusted him. "Worse than what you might think, Damon." Aegon replied before looking back at Jon Connington who was eying Damon suspiciously.

"The small folk talk of his madness but only the royal family and us in the Small Council know how much it has affected him." Connington explained to Damon solemnly.

"But is there anyone that he trusts?" Damon asked. "I mean, there must be someone."

"He cares a little for Mother's opinions which is much more than he cares for anyone else's. But aside from that, I can say that he only trusts himself. He's even afraid of his Kingsguard because of what Kingslayer did fourteen years ago."

"Kingslayer?" Damon looked quite confused. Aegon frowned, how could one not know of the infamous Jaime Lannister?

"Aye, Jaime Lannister," Aegon said but the look on Damon's face did not change, "He was a member of Kingsguard but he killed my grandfather at the end of the Rebellion."

"You mean he broke his oath? Is it why you call him that?" Damon asked again.

"Yes, now he's at the Wall. If not for the importance of Lannisters' support, he would have been executed, but my father agreed to send him to the Wall." Aegon explained.

Griffjon was eying Damon even more doubtingly now, "How is it that you've never heard of him?"

"I'm not Westerosi, my lord. I come from a village named Mystic Falls, it's far from Seven Kingdoms." Damon answered. It was the first time that he talked about their village.

Griffjon nodded before taking his leave. Then they were left alone in the gardens.

"Aegon," Damon suddenly called his name.

"What's it?" Aegon said, Damon's sudden move worried him.

"What if someone gets close to the king and gains his trust?" Aegon looked at his friend, he was deep in thought.

"What do you mean?" He narrowed his eyes.

"I mean, I want to get into your father's inner circle -which I would probably be the first one in it- and use it to our advantage. Maybe I can put some sense in him."

It was a drastic move, Aegon knew. If Damon did not succeed, there was a great chance of him ending up in the middle of a pyre, burning alive. Aegon warned Damon of that.

He smirked as a reply, "We would sooner or later end up like that if we don't do anything." He reasoned Aegon.

"Then do it and save us all." It was time for Damon to be introduced to his father, if he was so sure of this suicide job.

 _ **Damon:**_

"What did you do?" Kathrine demanded him.

Damon did not know it himself, his mind had suddenly went crazy and his mouth had accompanied his crazy thoughts. What had he been thinking?

"I told you to get close to the royal family, I didn't say anything about gaining a mad man's trust who can roast you alive if he wants so." Kathrine was nearly shouting at him.

"Oh, so you love me after all, darling. You still care what happens to me." Damon smirked.

"Shut up, Damon _Salvatore_. I say it because if you are accused of treason, they'll get me too." Kathrine said.

"Trust me, they won't. If everything goes to hell, we can still get some royal blood for ourselves." Damon replied. At least that was a relief, otherwise he would have had to admit his stupidity for even thinking of such thing.

For now, he needed some good plan to work out with, but he did not know what sort of thing would a mad man with a throne want. If he had not been the king, it would have been easy, promising him the throne and he would be swayed to Damon's side. But Rhaegar was a king and a grown-up at that -because young kings always thought they were being underrated- and Damon knew not what would grab the king's attention.

"You don't have a plan, do you?" Kathrine narrowed her eyes while testing him.

"And I suppose you've got a gigantic diabolical plan, don't you?" Damon wanted to know of her suggestions, he trusted Kathrine to have brilliant plans when it came to matters of power.

"And why would I tell you of it?" Kathrine smirked, she enjoyed Damon plead.

"Because if you don't, you might end up being roasted alive, you just said it." Damon grinned, he would not plead her.

"You convinced me." Kathrine replied playfully.

"So tell me of it." Damon said. His manner of talking was changing into a medieval one, at least he could blend in with the others.

"Well, a mad man wants nothing more than discovering a real plot against himself. We can give him one." Kathrine started.

"Tell me more." Damon was interested now, Kathrine had a real plan.

 _ **Nymeria:**_

"But why would he want a family supper? He'd never asked for such thing especially with Jon." Nym asked from Ser Arthur.

"I don't know, princess. But I know that he didn't invite Jon." Arthur replied.

"And he still calls it a _family_ supper." Nym stated angrily.

"I wish I could help, but I'm afraid I cannot." He looked guilty.

"None can do anything about him." Nym sighed.

Ser Arthur left her soon, and Nym sent for Kathrin. She had to get ready for the supper, and it was not like dining with her mother, the king was entirely a different matter. He was the one that used their Targaryen names and insisted that they had to be flawless prince and princess. Nym could never wear anything other than the red and black of Targaryens without being forced to change it, in front of her father.

Nonetheless, her situation was far better than Jon. Their father did not even considered Jon as his son, he treated him in a way that he treated a servant, even worse. If it was up to him, Jon would have been sent to the Wall years ago, but their mother had sought to that, she had threatened that she would leave for Winterfell with Nym and Jon before he could do that, the way Elia had went to Dorne with Rhaenys thirteen years before.

Kathrine's entrance, stopped her musings, "You've asked for me." She said.

"Aye, help me get ready for the supper. I'll be dining with the king and I suppose I need to wear something fancy and in my house colors." Nym said, in a grumpy tone.

Kathrine chuckled at the sight of her face, "You don't like it."

"Of course I don't! I can already see that it is going to be a disaster." Nym whined.

"Then I'm the most glad that I'm not you, Nymeria." Kathrine grinned even wider.

"Stop it, Kathrine, it's not funny." Nym snapped at her.

"Sorry, but the look on your face is like a lamb that is about to be butchered." Kathrine hid her grin this time behind her handkerchief.

"Supping with Father is just a few degrees better than that." Nym finally smiled weakly.

In the meantime, Kathrine had found an elegant black silk gown that looked just appropriate for the event. She then made a bun on the crown of her head and left a few strands fall to her shoulders in a popular Southron fashion. Nym sighed at her image in the looking glass but nodded in improvement, "It will do. Thank you, Kathrine."

Kathrine bowed her head in response and escorted her toward the king's solar. She and Aegon arrived at the same time. Her brother looked just as discontent as she did, "Brace yourself for another hell of a supper." He warned her with a bitter smile.

Nym merely nodded and they entered. Her mother was already there and in a deep argument with their father, "When are you going to stop this, Rhaegar?" She was saying as they entered.

The question was left unanswered as they noticed Nym and Aegon. Aegon bowed in front of Rhaegar and Nym dipped into a not-so-perfect curtsy. The king regarded them with a long observing look and finally spoke, "Good evening, sit down, children." He was in his 'better' mood, at least with them.

They obeyed his order and sat down, Aegon sat to the king's left and Nym occupied the seat next to her brother. Her mother smiled at them from the seat next to Rhaegar's.

The servants came and went, serving course after course. They all ate and drank in silence, none daring to speak. Too much for a family dinner, Nym thought. Rhaegar, however, seemed pleased with himself. Did it have anything to do with Damon Salvatore? Nym knew that Damon had been introduced to him just that morning. Aegon had sought to that. Nym did not know of the sellsword's plans but she hoped that it would work out well.

"How was your day?" Rhaegar suddenly asked Nym and Aegon, making them jump out of their skins.

"Good, Father." They mumbled in unison.

He looked at them expectantly, waiting for further details. Aegon gulped next to Nym and took the first turn, "Ser Arthur sought to our training today, he said that Aemon and I have progressed." He mustered a smile.

"Is that so? I doubt your brother has ever beat anyone." Rhaegar replied scornfully.

"In fact, Father, he always beats me." Aegon smiled. Nym sucked in her breath, this could not possibly end well.

However, no answer came from their father and Nym was relieved. It was until she saw his face and her mother had rushed to his side. Rhaegar was coughing and his nose bled. Aegon and Nym got up immediately, knocking their chairs over while doing so. Nym rushed to the door and found Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell on duty, "The king...get a maester. Now!" She urged them.

Ser Barristan ran to find one while Ser Oswell brushed past Nym to get to his king. Inside, Lyanna and Aegon were doing their best to help Rhaegar, but he was surely poisoned and could not be helped in such way. He had fallen to the ground, blood oozing out of his nose and mouth. He was trying to say something, but he could not form the words.

By then, Ser Arthur and some other members of their personal guard had come into the solar, and a few moments later Ser Barristan came back with Maester Wyman, who was in fact the one that did Maester Pycelle's job.

The others that were present there, gave way to Wyman so he could get to the king. Lyanna refused to leave his side, however. She was pale with horror and shock.

"It was...Ae...Aemon," Rhaegar finally managed to say, "Get...that bastard." It was all he said before he blacked out.

Nym froze with horror, she knew that it was just out of her father's madness and paranoia, but the guards would do as their king bid them. She and Aegon exchanged a look of fear. As the captain of their household guard was starting to leave the room, Nym and Aegon broke their gaze, facing Ser Martyn Mullendore, "You cannot do it!" Aegon exclaimed.

"I'm truly sorry my prince, but these are the king's orders." He told them, his face betraying no emotion.

"His Grace will live." Maester Wyman's voice could be heard as Nym and Aegon sprinted out of the room. They chose another route that would get them faster to the Common Hall, where Jon and Jon Connington were dining.

They entered the vast hall, surprising everyone as they ran to the top tables. Jon was deep in a conversation with Damon and Jon Connington. They stopped talking as they saw the manner that Nym and Aegon had entered.

"What's it?" Jon asked as he got up and came to them. Damon and Jon Connington got up as well.

"Father was poisoned, he thinks you did it, Jon. You need to leave before they get you." Nym said.

"But I didn't do anything." Jon protested.

"We know, but they will not believe you, brother." Aegon said.

Jon Connington was now looking worried, "What about Rhaegar, is he alive?"

"Aye, Maester Wyman said he will live through it," Aegon replied, "But it is not important now, we need to get Jon out of here before..." He stopped.

 _Before Ser Martyn arrives_ , Nym finished mentally. It was too late, he was already there with a dozen of the black cloaks -as the Targaryen household guard was called- all had their swords bare in their hands.

Aegon's hand went to his sword while Jon only froze at the spot. Damon and Jon Connington unsheathed their swords as well. The hall was now filled with whispers of the people.

Seeing that her brother would not defend himself, Nym reached for his sword and before he could stop her, Nym was armed with Jon's sword, standing protectively in front of him.

"There would be no need for violence, Prince Aegon, Princess Visenya." Ser Martyn told them.

"You know it's not true, Ser Martyn. My brother has done nothing wrong." Aegon replied sternly.

"The justice would be served for Prince Aemon in a fair trial, I assure you." Ser Martyn took a step forward.

"Justice?" Aegon laughed bitterly, "Justice would never be served as long as the decision is my father's." Nym saw many a man cover their mouths is shock.

"Careful, my prince, these words can be considered treason by some." Ser Martyn cautioned.

Aegon wanted to reply, but Jon put a hand on his shoulder, "It's alright, brother. They cannot punish me for what I did not do." Jon assured them.

"Are you mad, Jon?" Nym asked in shock.

"Mayhap, but it will be fine." Jon replied as he brushed past them and went to Ser Martyn.

"Prince Aemon, you are arrested for high treason, you shall have a trial as soon as the king sees it fit." Ser Martyn announced, making the crowd gasp in shock and amazement. Nym covered her mouth as she let go of Jon's sword, which landed on the stone with a dull thud.

A hand squeezed hers, it was Aegon. Nym turned to look him in the eye, "We will get him out of this hell, I promise." He told her.

"That, we will." Jon Connington confirmed as he took a step towards them. Damon nodded in agreement.


	3. Royals

**Chapter Three: Royals**

 **Summary:**

The royal family gives Jon the benefit of doubt. Damon is stuck in a plot twist made by himself. Caroline is forced to do some hard work. Jon feels bad in the darkness.

 _ **Lyanna:**_

Lyanna was so distressed, someone had poisoned Rhaegar and her son was blamed for it. She hoped that he had managed to get away before the guards could get him.

She was sitting next to Rhaegar's bed, watching Maester Wyman mixing a potion for the king. She looked back at her husband's pale face that was surrounded with soft pillows. His breathing was unsteady, yet Wyman had insisted he would live. Lyanna doubted that as she stared at Rhaegar, he looked weak, the exact opposite of the Rhaegar she knew all those years ago. The war, and Robert, had taken that man away from her, replacing him with a mad man like his father, King Aerys.

Through the years, Lyanna had tried her best to stop and restrain his madness, however she had never accomplished the task. Elia had left with Rhaenys the second year after the rebellion, Lyanna understood why she had done that. She had thought of going back to the North more than just once. But she could never leave her children behind, not Nym, not Jon and not even Aegon. Though the boy was not her blood, she had become a mother to him in the past twelve years. She loved him as much as she loved Jon and Nym.

Nonetheless, it was always Jon that suffered Rhaegar's madness the most. Lyanna had never suffered his madness personally, but she was tormented by watching her son bear it without even a single whine.

 _Damn Rhaegar and his prophecy_ , Lyanna thought, not for the first time. If it was not for the three bloody heads of Rhaegar's dragon, Jon would be loved as much as his siblings. But no, Rhaegar wanted only three children, his Rhaenys, Aegon and Visenya. Jon was just some abomination in the process for him.

"Mother," Aegon's solemn voice surprised her, he was always the one that brightened their moods.

Her head jerked up in response, "What happened?"

"They arrested Jon. We tried to stop them, but he went with them willingly." Aegon winced at the memory of that.

Lyanna's heart sank, why would Jon do it willingly? Certainly he had not been the one that poisoned Rhaegar, or was he? Lyanna shook the thoughts away, "Why did he do it?"

"He said that they can't punish him for what he had not done. He must have had lost his mind." Aegon replied.

Lyanna was both relieved and scared for her son, "We need to do something for him. It is not as simple as he thinks."

"I told him the same thing, he just shrugged me off. If Father truly believes that Jon was responsible," Aegon lowered his voice as he stole a look at Rhaegar, "Nothing will stop him."

Lyanna nodded grimly, "If we find the person behind this, we can prove them that Jon is not guilty." She got up.

"Maester Wyman, please make sure that His Grace won't suffer from pain. Give him some milk of poppy." She ordered the man. They needed their time to find the criminal before Rhaegar could do something foolish about Jon.

"Yes, your grace." The maester bowed as they left the room.

Once outside, Lyanna turned to her son, "We need to find Varys."

 _ **Nymeria:**_

Nym followed Ser Martyn and his men, who were escorting Jon to the black cells. She wanted to go into the corridors as well, but Ser Martyn stopped her, "I'm sorry, Princess, but I'm afraid it is not possible."

"He is my brother, and your prince, no matter what you think he had done." Nym insisted.

"I know he had done nothing wrong, but you heard his grace's orders." Ser Martyn shook his head apologetically as he put a hand on her back, forcing her to leave the corridor that led to her brother's new prison. She had no other choice but to leave.

She went straight to her bedchambers, Kathrine was waiting there for her, "What happened? They say your father is poisoned." She greeted her with those questions.

Nym nodded, "They think Jon did it," she said angrily, "They took him to the black cells. But he had nothing to do with any of these, he was not even there when it happened!"

"We will find a way to free him, don't worry." Kathrine sat next to her on the edge of the bed. "The Queen won't let anyone harm Jon."

"But if he is there at the trial, nothing can stop him from giving Jon to Ser Ilyn." Her voice was shaky as she said those words.

"We will find a way. There must be some servant that is responsible, if we get them, we will prove the King that Jon is innocent." Kathrine assured her.

"We should start looking for them." Nym said as she got up, maybe there was hope after all.

"Yes, let's start with the kitchens." Kathrine smiled as she followed her out of her bedchambers.

Nonetheless, they were not the first ones to think of it. Her mother and brother were already there, questioning the servants and kitchen maids personally. They nodded to Nym and Kathrine as they saw them, "Nothing. None of them knows anything." Aegon sighed as Nym stood next to him.

"But there should be something." Nym exclaimed.

Her mother was busy questioning a very scared girl, "Did you add anything special to the king's food?"

The girl looked frightened by that question and started stammering before she could finally form a complete sentence, "I swear I did not know what it was. He told me that it was needed in his grace's food. He said it was a special spice that his grace likes." The girl was crying now, "I'm so sorry, your grace, if I knew..."

Nym's mother looked stern but she placed a hand on the crying girl's shoulder, "But you did not. Just tell me who gave it to you."

The girl was now shaking badly from her fear, "Why, your grace, he was your son. Prince Aemon." The girl stammered.

Nym froze, as did everyone else. How could Jon do such thing? He should have been so stupid if he had thought he would get away with it, with Rhaegar's madness, he was the first person they suspected. What had Jon done? Did he know that his action was punishable by death?

 __ _ **Aegon:**_

Aegon's heart skipped a beat, had Jon truly done that? He seemed genuinely surprised when they had told him of what had happened to their father. And then he had went willingly with the guards. Was all those things some sort of an act?

Aegon had never thought that the way Rhaegar treated Jon would lead him to do this with their father. If it was about anyone else -maybe even Aegon himself- he would expect such thing sooner or later, but not from his little brother. Jon was always solemn and sad, yet never cruel or avenging. He just accepted whatever that their father told him, he had never once complained of that. And then it's his bloody honor, Aegon thought bitterly. Jon had the honor of a Stark, which also kept him from any sort of complaining about the king's behavior towards him. But the ones that were expected the least would do the most unbelievable things, Jon was no exception in that matter. Still, Aegon had trouble believing it.

"How are you so sure?" He demanded the kitchen maid.

"He was hooded, Your Grace, but I saw some of his features." The girl stammered.

"Tell us." His mother said, she as well looked horrified for Jon.

"I saw his dark curls, my queen, and his grey eyes, they were like steel." The girl said.

Something sounded wrong, Aegon felt it, "Steel?" This caused the girl to look at him weirdly, like he was mad to ask such question. Aegon doubted that he was not, yet this word took his attention, it was one thing that could save his brother from certain death.

"Yes, my prince, steel." The girl nodded.

"Like light grey?" Aegon insisted, making the girl look at him with even wider eyes. However, beside him, his mother and sister realized what he wanted to say, they now looked expectantly at the girl. The girl nodded once more.

"Then it had not been Jon." Aegon declared. Jon's eyes were grey, but not light grey -not like steel- they were the darkest shade of grey possible, almost black, the same applied to Nym as well. It left no more questionings that someone had wanted to make Jon look guilty.

They left the kitchens and retired back to the Queen's solar, accompanied by Jon Connington and Damon Salvatore.

"It is a strong evidence that Jon is innocent, but I doubt that Rhaegar will care for it." Aegon's mother said with a sad tone.

"But he should! It wasn't Jon, it is clear enough." Nym protested.

"Clear enough for us, Nym, not for your father." Lord Connington replied sternly.

"There must be a way to make him believe it. We cannot let Jon stay in the black cells any longer." Aegon insisted.

"There may be a way." Damon started, attracting all the attentions to himself, "We need to find this guy that had tried to look like Jon."

"It's almost impossible! There might be dozens of people with the same features in Kings Landing." Lord Connington frowned, but Aegon could see that he was truly considering this option.

"I have friends that might help, and from what I know, Lord Varys is on our side, too. He might be able to help." Damon declared.

"Do whatever it takes, Salvatore." The Queen said.

"I will, your grace." Damon bowed and took his leave.

Once he had left, Jon Connington turned back to Lyanna, "Do you truly trust this man, Lyanna?" He asked.

"Not really, but I know I can trust him with this." She replied.

"Aye, he cannot make things worse, or so I hope." Aegon added.

"Though there is always something worse when it comes to Father, but I agree with you." Nym finally managed a ghost of a smile which faded soon. However, Aegon knew that there was hope after all, there was a way to save his little brother.

 __ _ **Caroline:**_

Caroline was so messed up, why was she with Rebekah? They had woken up in the middle of nowhere a few days ago, where they had found out was Westerlands. However that discovery had not put their minds at ease, for they were not in modern times.

A group of riders had found them, led by a dwarf named Tyrion Lannister. While Caroline had been hushed, Rebekah had talked her way to be sheltered in Casterly Rock with catching Tyrion's eyes.

Caroline had been taken in as a handmaiden for Lady Cersei. _Handmaiden!_ She could not even bring herself to believe it. They were sent back in time, to centuries before they were even born. Rebekah had said that they were in a time when even she had not been born yet. Caroline cursed Liv and whatever the spell she had cast, for now they were stuck in that crazy time.

"Faster, girl, you don't want to keep Lady Cersei waiting." A servant urged her.

Caroline gathered her thoughts as well as Lady Cersei's breakfast. She had to help the servant serve Cersei Lannister's breakfast.

They got to Cersei's solar amidst a scowling. She was scoffing at her bastard son, Joffrey Hill, for getting into a fight with Lord Tywin Lannister himself. Caroline had never seen the boy before, but she had heard enough things of him to know it was Joffrey that was defending his deeds in front of Cersei.

"My lady," Caroline said to take the woman's attention to her breakfast.

Cersei looked down at her with a frown on her face but otherwise ignored her entirely. Caroline bit her lip to prevent herself from saying something rude to the ever displeased Cersei. Instead she stood a few feet away from the table that Cersei sat at. She had to stay there so she could help Cersei whenever she needed to. These aids included fetching her another bottle of wine and such, as if Cersei herself was cripple and could not get it herself from the other side of the table.

The breakfast took more than an hour to finish, and Caroline endured it patiently. Joffrey never left the room and stood there the whole time, hands crossed at his chest and insisting he had done nothing wrong. At the end, after a long argument, Cersei advised her son to leave his grandfather alone. But she had already softened, for when Caroline was taking out the last remnants of the breakfast, Cersei got up and pulled her dear son into a hug, kissing the top of his head.

Caroline got back to her daily duties after that, including helping Cersei dress for the midday meal with her family. When she finally got some free time, she went to courtyard of the castle. Out of her sheer luck, she found Rebekah there. She was chosen as another of Cersei's handmaidens, and as much as it bothered Caroline, she had to endure the vampire from time to time.

"Had fun with Lady _Want-It-All_?" Rebekah smirked.

Hating Cersei was probably the only thing the two shared in common and it made them bond over her. Caroline nodded, "She was with her beloved son."

Despite being there for less than a week, they both know almost everything about the famous bastard of Casterly Rock. Joffrey was the ever ignorant bastard son of Cersei. He had been born during Robert's Rebellion and none knew for certain who his father was. Whoever it had been, it had brought shame to Tywin Lannister's family. Cersei was no longer appropriate for a marriage, at least not one proper for the daughter of Lord of Casterly Rock and Westerlands. Tywin hated his only grandson for that, and his own daughter. Cersei, however, loved her darling son, no matter what cruel and improper things he did. Joffrey was the sort of bully that terrorized the servants and those beneath his rank, just because he was son of Cersei. Lord Tywin stopped him at times, but mostly it was Joffrey that would get away.

Rebekah had told Caroline of how the boy had scoffed her for being a tavern girl that his mother had taken in. Though thankfully Rebekah had not eaten the boy at that instant. Vampire or not, one could not easily get away from killing Joffrey.

 _ **Jon:**_

Jon could not say whether it was dawn yet or not. He had not been there even for a day, that he could say for sure, but he felt it had been an eternity. Since Ser Martyn's men had left him in the black cells, he had not seen anyone else. Although he had heard some distant arguments when he was escorted to the dungeons, but he could only make out Nym and Ser Martyn's voices and no more.

He was starting to regret his decision for not fighting back when they had come after him. However, he knew that it would have done him no good, it would have even worsened his condition. If he had fought back, then he would have given them yet another reason to suspect him even further. Still, he could not feel any better about his current condition.

The only sound that he could hear was that of water trickling down at some cell further down in the dungeons. Jon wished that he could close his eyes and wake up back in his own bedchambers and see that it had all been a nightmare. But the sleep did not come at all, he tried to relax himself on the worn mattress that was the only adornment of his cell, however it was in vain. He tossed and turned, unable to lull himself to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, an image would break into his mind, each time worse than the previous time.

If his father died of the poison, then Jon would be accused for both kingslaying and kinslaying, and would die a horrible death. He tried to get that possibility out of his mind by reminding himself that Aegon had assured them Rhaegar would live.

 _How could he know? What if the maester had been wrong?_ Jon thought and those dark images came back to his mind even worse than before. Now when he closed his eyes, he could see his father's lifeless body or his own dead and headless corpse.

He did not know when, but he finally drifted into sleep, though not a peaceful one. His dreams were filled with cries of his father that accused Jon for killing him and then ordered his men to burn Jon alive.

Jon had never felt bothered by heat, but he never had had the courage to see whether fire could burn him or not. However, in his restless dreams, he burnt in the great pyre his father had made for him in the Throne Room. His dreams changed afterwards, he was still in the Throne Room and there was still a great fire burning amidst the hall, but it was not him who was burning, it was a man in an armor. There was also another man there -this one younger- and he was struggling to get to the man on fire, but a leash around his neck stopped him from doing so. Instead of Jon's father, it was an older, more ragged man that was enjoying the moment from where he sat on the Iron Throne.

Jon knew what he was witnessing, it was the deaths of his grandfather and his uncle by his other grandfather, Aerys the Mad. He had heard the tale enough from the castle folks to recognize it. It was a subject that none dared to talk openly of, but the rumors still flowed on noble and smallfolk's tongues alike.

He woke up with a start, sweating and panting from his eerie nightmares. The sound of a key turning into the lock took his attention. He was going to have a visitor and he could only hope that whoever it was, it bore good news.

But as it turned out, it was just a guard that had brought him food. Apparently no one cared for ranks and titles down there, for his food was as plain as it could be, a bowl of some unknown stew, a crust of hard bread and some water. Even the water did not look healthy for drinking, so Jon used it to clean his face with. It was not much, but it still helped him feel a bit less dirty. He then went for the stew, but found out that he was not hungry, so he only took a spoon of it before leaving it.

This meal meant that it was probably morning, and this had to be his morning meal. Jon could not help but muse over how his life had altered within a day. Yesterday, he was a prince -though not a beloved one, but still respected- and now he was just a prisoner and a criminal like many others in the dungeons of Red Keep.

Jon curled back to a corner, just like he had done many times before he was imprisoned. Every time that his father had scolded him, he had locked himself in his chambers and curled himself against the cold stone walls until he had gotten over the argument by some. At times, his mother, Ser Arthur or Jon Connington would have found him and soothed him. But now, down below Red Keep, there was no soothing and no calming that his mother or Arthur or Jon Connington could offer him. There was only that ruthless fear of what was to come that invaded Jon's mind.

He did not know how long he had been curled against the wall when he heard the footsteps again. They were not one, but two at the time. He felt his heart sink, they had come after him, perhaps to escort him to his death.

The heavy door opened with a wail and revealed the blinding light of a torch. When his eyes adjusted to the sudden light, he saw his mother and Ser Arthur. Ser Arthur was holding the torch while Lyanna almost ran to Jon. Jon found his strength to pull himself to his feet right before his mother got to him. She collected him in her arms and hugged him so tight that Jon felt he was going to strangle, such a strength was strange for a woman.

She finally loosened her arms and cupped her hands around his face, looking at his eyes.

"I'm so sorry Jon, I should've come sooner." She said, her eyes full of worry.

Jon forced a smile which turned out more like a grimace, "It's alright, Mother. They cannot punish me for what I have not done." He tried to believe in what he was saying, but he failed.

"I will not let them do so." Lyanna said with iron in her voice.

Ser Arthur came closer to the pair, "We will bring Rhaegar to his senses, whatever it takes."

Jon nodded weakly, it was their only hope. Lyanna looked at him once more, "Nym and Aegon wanted to come as well, but the black cloaks did not let them. I had to shout at them that I am their bloody queen so they finally permitted me to come." She said.

"And even then, they said that a member of Kingsguard should be present as well," Arthur said with disdain before beaming at Jon, "And here I am."

Jon nodded again, unable to say anything. But he assumed that his eyes told pretty much everything, for his mother got even more distressed. "Jon, I wish I could just get you out of here right now, I would have killed every fucking man that got in my way, but I know it just make things worse." She said, but her voice was not angry, it was sad.

"It's fine, father will finally see through this folly, I'm sure." Again, Jon could not believe his own words, where as he dearly wished they were true.

A tear rolled down Lyanna's cheek, "Oh, my poor son," she muttered desperately.

Jon was about to embrace his mother and soothe her, to tell her that everything would go back to normal very soon, but a guardsman interrupted them.

"Apologies, your grace, but you must leave now." The guard said in a stern tone.

Jon could see that his mother was about to turn and shout at the guardsman, so he put a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay," he said for the third time, "Don't do it."

After a final longing look at him, his mother left with Ser Arthur, who in turn gave an encouraging yet sad smile to him.

Then he was alone in the darkness once more.

 _ **Nymeria:**_

Nym shifted in her place next to Aegon and the rest of the Small Council members. Her eyes were hollow from not sleeping the night before. It was the day of Jon's trial and almost the whole court had gathered to see the outcome.

She did not want to think of the outcomes, it made her sick with worry and fury. All she could was to grip the table in front of her as if her life was depended on it. Her finger tips were becoming white from the force, but she cared not. Her eyes were fixed on her father as he came into the room. Everyone knelt down as he passed, but he paid them no heed. His face was pale and sickly, and he supported his weight on Lyanna. Lyanna's face was as still as stone, but Nym could see the fear for Jon in her eyes.

As Rhaegar ascended the Iron Throne, Lyanna followed him, taking her place a few steps below Rhaegar. A warm hand covered hers, it was Aegon, smiling warmly at her. But they both knew that smile was as hollow as everything else that day.

Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell took their places at the first steps of the throne. At the head of council table, sat Jon Connington, his expression pretty much the same to Lyanna's. Pycelle, Renly and Little Finger did not look bothered at all, mostly interested in the outcomes. Viserys was also present, having come from Dragonstone just that day. His expression was concerned, too.

An unexpected guest was there as well, seated at the council table with the others was Damon Salvatore. During the last few days, after Rhaegar's poisoning, he had grown close to the king, enough to gain himself a place of honor at the council table. Nym eyed him skeptically, he had assured them that he had things under control, and Nym hoped that he did. To her right, sat Varys with an unreadable expression. He had helped Damon on the upcoming trial to free Jon.

When the king was finally seated, he held up a hand to silent the crowd, and then gestured for Ser Gerold to bring in Jon. _Aemon_ , Nym corrected herself, if she called her brother by his northern name, it would make their father furious and she did not want that.

The doors were opened and Ser Martyn and Prince Lewyn of Kingsguard came in with Jon in between. Nym gasped upon seeing her brother's state, gripping all the tighter at the table. Jon still wore the same clothes he had worn when he was captured. Now they looked like ragged clothing of a beggerman. His hair was a tangled mess of jet black curls and his face was as pale as snow.

Nym suppressed a pained cry as she watched her brother walk towards them. He held down his head but when he passed where Nym and Aegon sat, he looked at them. His expression was utter resignation, as if he had long ago accepted whatever fate that the king decided for him. Nym desperately wanted to get up and go to her twin brother, to hug him tightly and kill anyone who dared to protest. A twitch in Aegon's hand which was placed on hers made her know that he was thinking of the same.

Jon broke the gaze as he was escorted to his place as the 'criminal'. Jon Connington cleared his throat and stood up, announcing the beginning of the trial. "Aemon Targaryen, you are called here to answer for your crimes against his grace, King Rhaegar." There was a coldness in his voice that showed he hated the words he was saying.

Words came and went in shape of blurred buzzing to Nym. She could not bear sitting there, she wanted to be anywhere but there, to hear something else than her brother being accused for poisoning his own father. Kingslaying and kinslaying were amongst the crimes he had intended to do.

Lord Connington called Maester Wyman forth to testify what had happened to the king. His words could not be handled in Nym's mind. After Wyman, it was Aegon's turn. He got up heavily, unwilling to do what he was told to do. When the warmth of his hand was lifted away from Nym's, she felt like the world had fallen on her shoulders. He had been the only physical presence that reassured her with more than looks.

Nym's eyes followed him to the dais, where he stood and exchanged a look with Jon. Nym could not see Jon's face anymore, but Aegon's one was full of regret and sadness as he looked at his brother. Nym saw Jon nod faintly at Aegon as he reverted his gaze to the king.

He started his own story of the events, starting from when the king was poisoned. When he finished, Jon Connington spoke up once more, even more unwilling if was possible, "I believe that you had some research of your own, Prince Aegon. Would you tell us of it?" He asked.

Aegon paled with horror but he collected himself a moment later, looking right into Rhaegar's eyes. "It is true, I did have my own investigations. I would like to call a witness of my own." He replied firmly.

The king nodded in a bored manner, he had long ago decided Jon's fate and nothing could change it. However, he accepted Aegon's request, with that the heavy oaken doors opened once more. A girl was led inside, she was the kitchen maid that had added poison to the king's food, Lara. Aegon came back to his seat as Lara took his place where Aegon had just left. She looked even more scared than she had when Lyanna had questioned her. Nym pitied her, there was a strong possibility that she would be even executed for poisoning the king's food. As she started talking, the king's mood darkened even more and the whole court gasped with shock. "So you were the one that added poison to his grace's meal." Jon Connington concluded, though he knew the answer.

The girl nodded before adding instantly, "I was ordered to do so, my lord, I never thought it was poison." Lara was clearly shaking.

"Ordered by whom?" Connington asked.

"By...by someone that looked like Prince Aemon," when Lara said that, many a whisper came from courtiers. "But it wasn't him." She quickly added.

"How do you know so?" Rhaegar's voice startled everyone, he had not talked since the beginning of the trial.

"I had never seen Prince Aemon closely, but now that I had, I can easily say that the man who gave me the orders wasn't him, your grace. His eyes were much lighter than the prince's." The king frowned in an unbelieving manner that made Nym's heart sink. Aegon's hand was once more on hers.

Lara saw that reaction from Rhaegar, and she continued, "He was also shorter than the prince and his hair was not like his." Nym knew that she was lying about the hair, but she hoped none would notice.

Jon's face was dumbstruck, he had not known about Lara's tale. He was now eying his father with fear. "Is that all?" Rhaegar asked, almost looking relieved that he could finally announce his _judgment_.

This time Damon got up, attracting all attentions, "I'm afraid not, your grace. I have had my own invitations, and I want your royal permission to share them here." He said formally.

The king considered it for a long moment and finally nodded his agreement. Nym took a deep breath, this game was far from over and she did not know it was better or worse.

 _ **Damon:**_

Damon stood up, his nerves frying with worry. If this plan did not go as it was supposed to, it would not be his head that ended up on a spike rather Jon's. When Kathrine had suggested her idea, there had been no talk of Jon, Damon had entered him in the game on his own rushed action.

Kathrine had then scoffed him for his foolishness but Damon knew it was something else, Kathrine had fallen for Jon. No wonder, she had a weak spot for broody boys that had nothing special to them except for their hair. Both Stefan and Jon had _gorgeous_ hair styles.

Anyway, Damon knew if he did succeed in cleaning the mess he had started, Kathrine would not hesitate in killing him. He gathered his courage, reminding himself that he could always eat this mad king that sat upon this ugly throne. He had already poisoned him in a witty way after all.

"Your grace, if I may present you with Arrec Bracken, the man who had sneaked inside the kitchens and made himself look like Prince Aemon." Damon carefully stopped himself from using 'Jon' instead of Aemon.

The guards brought the man in, he was a useful toy for Damon's plans. A knight from a noble house and yet a sellsword deep down. Damon had seduced one of Petyr Bealish's whores whom in turn had seduced Bracken with her body and Damon's gold. Even if Bracken said anything about the girl, Bealish was the one that would end up in the middle of flames, not Damon. Kathrine had truly thought of everything. There was a chain of people between that kitchen maid, Lara, and Damon, with lots of distractions and dead ends for whoever that dared to follow the chain.

Arrec Bracken was brought to where Damon stood, he followed Aegon's suit and went back to his seat and Bracken took his place. He was more annoyed than scared to be caught, "Your grace, I swear I have done nothing wrong." He started defensively.

Sure you have not, Damon mused. He gave a smirk outwardly, as he stood to explain Arrec Bracken's crimes against the crown. The details were so carefully chosen and illuminated, threaded with slightest of lies hidden inside truth that even Bracken himself could not say they were lies. He had already half-believed what Damon was saying. By the time Damon had finished his accusations, the sellsword was wordless.

He finally gave a bow and sat down once more, waiting for Rhaegar's decision. Jon Connington asked if there was anything else and no one talked, so he finally turned to his king. "Your grace," he traded a silent look with Rhaegar.

Rhaegar looked displeased as much as he could be, his face was adorned with the deepest of frown and his eyes sparkled with fury. He had wanted to see Jon amidst the flames, but he clearly was unable to give such order after such a trial.

There was a deafening silence, so much that Damon could hear if a needle fell to ground, not that he was unable if there was noises, but still.

"Hereby, I, Rhaegar of house Targaryen, first of my name, king of Andals and First men..." There was a train of titles that he gave himself and then, "Sentence you, Ser Arrec of house Bracken, to death for crime of high treason against the crown."

With a look at Bracken, Damon found out that he would not give up easily. He had studied an unpublished and unwritten book of law of those times, meaning that he talked with Renly Baratheon, master of laws. He knew what was to come. "I demand a trial by combat, let the gods decide my fate." Arrec Bracken announced.

The hall fell silent once more, and the one that broke the silence made the others even grow more silent. "Then I ask to be the champion for the crown, your grace. I want to be the one that fights Ser Arrec." Damon had wanted to say those words but the lines were stolen from him, not by a member of the Kingsguard or even Aegon. The words were spoken not a few feet away from Bracken. It was Jon who had said them.

 _ **Notes:**_

Hi again!

I know, I'm sort of excited to post new chapters. I will slow down posting soon, I promise!

Anyway, a few notes on things going on; Griffjon is actually a nickname for Jon Connigton which I thought was suitable. I did it because I just couldn't go on with having two Jons as main characters and Griff is the name he adopted in the canon while in Essos.


	4. Die Another Day

**Chapter Four: Die Another Day**

 **Notes:**

Sorry for taking too long to post. When I said there would be a gap between the chapters I didn't mean this long. But here it is now, though it's short. I just wanted it to be a bit of a cliffhanger.

 **Chapter Summary:** Lyanna deals with Jon's foolishness and Rhaegar's madness. Kathrine wants to kill Damon but still enjoys a ticket to a circus of death. Jon tries his best.

 **Lyanna:**

Lyanna wheezed in horror, had her son lost his mind? He had just been saved from certain death and yet he demanded to be the one to fight with Arrec Bracken to death, where only one of them would get to live.

"No!" The words were said so low that none but herself and Rhaegar heard.

He looked down at her with a cruel smile, one that disgusted Lyanna, and then turned back his attention to Jon, "Then let it be. You shall fight on the morrow morning, to death." The last words hung heavily in the air.

Lyanna gripped at one of the swords on the throne, so hard that she cut her palm and blood flowed. She paid no mind to it, though. She turned to Rhaegar, "Please, you don't have to do this. I beg you." She pleaded in a hushed tone.

The smile was still there, "I won't change my mind, besides Aemon asked for it. Although I would be utterly unwilling to let this Bracken get away with what he had done, but I see no way that this boy can survive the combat."

Lyanna was in tears, no longer caring for the whole court watching them, she got up and gathered her skirts. "Then be it, one day I will make you regret it." She was not so discreet about her words, she cared not if the people heard her.

She made her way down the Iron Throne, and then the Throne Room. Seeing that she wanted to exit, the guards opened the doors for her hastily. Her footsteps echoed in the silence as she brushed past the Kingsguards and with a pained look at Jon, she left the hall. As soon as she left, the whispers started once more behind her until Rhaegar's voice stopped them once more.

Lyanna went straight to her bedchambers, angry, furious and feeling useless. Jon and Rhaegar had both gone mad. However, Lyanna could guess why Jon had done that foolishness. He wanted to prove himself to his father, to show him that he was no weakling.

She looked out of her window, the one that opened to the courtyard. Seeing people that poured out of the Throne Room, she knew that the trial was over. Lyanna could no longer linger in her room, and she left it for another wing of Maegor's Holdfast.

No one was in Jon's chambers, and they were painfully dusty. During his time in the dungeons no one had come to clean there. Jon's sword was in its scabbard, were Ser Martyn had left it on Jon's bed after he had captured him. Lyanna went to the window, the scene inside the room was irrationally painful for her.

Outside, Blackwater shone in the afternoon light like it was made of molten gold instead of water. A warm breeze came from that direction, leaving the fresh scent of nature in its leave. The weather, however, was hot and sticky and for once Lyanna truly wished that winter was coming.

The door creaked open and Lyanna turned immediately. Jon entered, at first he did not see her and locked his gaze on his sword. When he lifted his eyes from the sword, they flickered to where Lyanna stood. His face lightened up, but that melancholic look never left his eyes.

"Jon," Lyanna whispered, she wanted to sound angry, but she could not. She was just glad that Jon was safe, at least until the next day.

"Mother, I didn't expect to see you here." Jon replied, coming towards her.

"Why did you do it?" Lyanna demanded, but the anger would not come.

Jon did not reply, instead he went to his closet, drawing a tunic and some breeches out of it.

"You know it's dangerous!" Lyanna once more tried.

Jon got rid of his ragged clothes, slipping into the clean ones. As he did, he smiled warmly at Lyanna, "It isn't. Bracken should pay for what he did."

"Yes, he should, but you don't have to be the one that makes him pay." Lyanna insisted.

Jon came to her, looking square in her eyes, "I must," was all he said.

"You _must_? Jon you don't have to prove anything to anyone. Even less so to Rhaegar." Lyanna replied, now the anger came, anger at Rhaegar.

Jon fell silent once more, but his eyes betrayed him. There was a longing in them, the longing to be approved by his father. It stung Lyanna all the greater, it fed her anger and pain. She could no longer bear looking at those dark pools of sadness, she reverted her gaze, having lost yet another game of stares with Jon. The tears threatened to fall at any moment and she could not let Jon see them, they would add more to his worries. She walked to the door without another word, leaving a stubborn Jon behind.

 **Kathrine:**

Kathrine dressed up hastily, not wanting to miss the trial. She wished that she could somehow feed her blood to Jon without him finding out. Yet, she doubted that he would even need it, from what she had seen of him he was a fierce warrior. He had managed to beat Damon, a vampire.

Kathrine did not what attracted her to Jon, but she had a thing for him, however reluctant to admit so. She had not even truly talked to him, but those handsome curls and dark eyes were enough. Kathrine violently shook her head, she should not show weakness nor affection. Those two were for weaklings and losers, she was beyond that.

Lyla had not come to help her that morning, she was probably busy with Nym's works. She did not whether she had to go and comfort Nym or not, she finally decided against it. She was in no mood to brighten crying ladies' moods. Thus, she walked alone to the training yard which was now emptied exclusively for the trial.

The center had been covered with sand like an arena, all around benches were placed and there was even a place of high honor for the king and his family and the small council. The seven pointed star banner was placed next to Targaryen's three headed dragon, both flapping in the breeze.

The day was as hot as desert but slightly damper. However, even if not for the heat, the air was heavy with tension. Half of the court had yet to come and Kathrine could not recognize any of the present faces, she had come too early.

A few squires were preparing the fields along with some stewards making last-minute fixes. Amongst the squire, Kathrine recognized Jon's personal squire. The boy had house Dayne's sigils on his surcoat, the same falling star sigil that Ser Arthur Dayne wore upon his white armor. The boy looked uneasy and snappy, but apparently he held some authority there, either for being Prince Jon's squire or for being Ser Arthur's kin, or both. He shouted at his fellow pages, squires and stewards to change this and that all while his face was adorned with a frown.

Kathrine did not sit down, instead she went to the other wing of the courtyard, to the silence of the Queen's Gardens. She did not want to seem too eager. It was a peaceful place filled with thousands of different flowers and scents. It appeared that every kind of flower and miniature trees could be grown there. All except for the queen's favorite ones from her home, the icy blue winter roses. During her time in King's Landing, a ship had come from White Harbour, with goods, but one package was exclusively sent for Lyanna. Winter rose seedlings from glass gardens of Winterfell, Nym had explained to her. But none of them came to flowers, mostly withered within less than a week.

Kathrine walked through mazes of flowers, bushes and trees until she heard more buzzing sounds from far across the castle. She then went back to the training yard.

The crowd had now grown larger, some members of the Small Council were in their seats, the old Maester Pycelle, the cunning Lord Baelish and Damon. Although Kathrine knew that Damon was not a member of the Small Council, but their plans had actually worked and Damon now was trusted by Rhaegar himself which had made many others distrust him.

Shooting Damon an angry look, she sat down. It had been supposed to be him who would be fighting Arrec Bracken if he suggested trial by combat. However, Damon had been too slow to purpose and Jon had been too quick to do that, all while the king had been too eager to see Jon die in a foolish way. Kathrine hoped that Jon would disappoint his father in that matter and kill Bracken.

One by one, the rest of the court and council members came. The ever secretive Varys came in his lilac robes and then the smug Renly Baratheon came in his green and gold finery. Prince Viserys came with Jon Connington, both in dour moods and their eyes like storm clouds about to thunder. More than once, Viserys shot disdainful looks to his brother's yet-empty seat. He and Jon Connington, or Griffjon as they called him, were deep in a heated conversation that Kathrine could not hear over the crowd, but they were surely talking about the king.

Last of all, came the royal with some of the Kingsguard by their heels. Though, not all at once. First Aegon and Nym came, with Ser Oswell and Ser Barristan, their expressions were unreadable, well hidden beneath masks of ice and stone.

Lyanna arrived with only Ser Arthur as escort, where she usually came with Rhaegar, she was alone today. Her eyes were red from both crying and the lack of sleep yet her face was angry, angrier than those of Viserys and Griffjon's. She sat in her seat next to Rhaegar's empty one as stiff as stick.

The last but not the least of this whole façade arrived after some good ten minutes delay. Rhaegar, accompanied by Prince Lewyn and Ser Arys, was all jubilant and satisfied, even more than the last day. Nonetheless, he still was pale and weak and nothing could hide that. He took his place as everyone knelt before him, eyeing every single member of his family and council. Finally, with a satisfied nod, he let everyone straighten up once more. The crowd was silent, and unlike yesterday there was no need of silencing them countless times.

The squires had all cleared the view now, except for Jon's squire and another one that Kathrine supposed was Arrec Bracken's one. Even the squires fixed each other with hateful and venomous looks. Kathrine could only imagine what their masters would do given live steel swords.

Unfortunately, it was live steel that they were to fight with and not some blunted tourney sword or wooden swords.

With Rhaegar's gesture, both men came into the fighting space and Kathrine could see them. Arrec Bracken wore a mask of self-esteem and his black hair shone dimly in the sun. Kathrine could see his grey eyes shining dangerously as he eyed Jon on the other side of the circle.

Jon for his part, was casual, as if it was some combat with Aegon or Damon with blunted swords, not a fight to death with sharp steel. He was not a power thirsty or glory seeker, but when it came to fighting with swords, he changed. He even wore a sly, faint smirk over his lips as if he knew some little secret that none around him was aware of. It was more like Aegon than himself.

His squire Edric, Kathrine finally remembered his name, ran forward to give Jon his sword and helm as Pycelle stood to declare the trial details and some other meaningless rubbish. Meanwhile, Jon took his bastard sword from Edric yet refused the helm. Kathrine smiled in agreement, he knew that the helmet would only get in the way. Her smile widened as Bracken wore his own helmet and gripped his greatsword.

Pycelle finished his stammering and the two champions bowed to the king. The king watched with a bemused smirk and he finally declared the start of the combat.

Jon and Bracken started circling each other, but Bracken was nervous and did not play with his opponent. He lost patience soon and stroke first, in a poorly aimed blow that Jon easily dodged. Jon in turn answered the blow with one of his own, he tried to get Bracken on torso, however his blade stopped his.

They exchanged some other warming up blows before the real fight begun. Bracken now had more control over his blows and aimed them well, if Jon had not been trained so well, he would have had ended up in pieces long ago by Bracken's greatsword.

But Jon had balance of a ballerina as far as Kathrine could tell He was fast, swift and collecting. He moved gracefully while he wanted to attack and his defenses were hidden until Bracken tested them. More than once or twice Kathrine thought that he was about to get injured badly, but in the very last milliseconds Jon would prove her wrong, raising his blade to shield himself.

Kathrine was truly attracted to the fight, she had never thought she would, yet she was. She mused about what a great vampire would Jon make, he was already fast and swift on his own and becoming a vampire would enhance that to no end.

The sound of swords and metal clanging to each other was heard more rapidly, as if they were now dancing to a faster, more manic rhythm. People could no longer see their individual movements, but the outcomes of each set of attacks. But Kathrine noticed that, despite all his grace and quickness, Jon was being pushed back, close to the dais that his family sat. Kathrine reverted her gaze to Rhaegar for a short moment to see him leering, he had noticed that as well.

Jon, however, kept blocking Bracken's attacks and answered them. None of them had taken more than scratch until then. But when Jon raised his sword to use a golden chance for attacking Bracken, everything changed. Bracken was ready for it, he took half a step back, out of Jon's sword's reach. But whereas Jon could not reach him, Bracken had access to Jon through his longer sword. Jon found out what he was to do but it was too late. He was pinned between Bracken and the dais, right where Rhaegar sat.

With a brief and fast move Bracken had his sword in Jon's stomach. A scared gasp escaped from almost each and every one witnessing the scene, all save for Rhaegar. Bracken was ready to twist it and finish the job and Rhaegar was now leaning in closer so he could every bit of the scene, his son's death scene.

Yet the twist never had the chance to come, for Jon had regained his posture because of all the adrenaline that the wound had released. He cared not for the open and bleeding wound that he had received when the sword slashed right through his armor and had left it dented around. With one hand, Jon gripped the greatsword, putting all his might in getting it away from himself. Bracken, dazed from Jon's sudden counter attack, had loosened his grip on his own sword, causing it to turn easily from Jon but he managed to hold it just in time.

Jon, having freed himself, turned his back to the other side of the arena, changing roles with Bracken. Now it was Bracken that was almost pinned to the dais instead of Jon. Rhaegar's expression was no longer readable but Kathrine cared not, her eyes were fixed on the pair. Jon did not wait for Bracken to gather his wits and attacked, hard and furious.

Before he took the final blow, he muttered something. Many did not hear it but due to her hearing abilities, Kathrine heard it loud and clear enough. She half-expected Jon to say something glorious but he only muttered, "Not today."

And then he pierced his sword right through Bracken's armor, just he had done with Jon himself. This time there was no hesitation before twisting the sword, he twisted it so hard that Kathrine could hear the man's ribs break while Jon did so. The smell of blood filled the air even stronger, Bracken's blood and Jon's were both spilled. Kathrine suddenly felt hungry, she had to hunt that day before she lost her control and attack the king.

Jon had drained all the adrenaline in that act, and now suddenly all his features were twitched in pain. He lost his balance and fell to the ground, his blood pouring onto the sand beneath him.

His squire ran forward to help him, but someone beat the boy, a girl jumped of her place in the high dais and went straight to Jon. It was Nym, she ran to her brother with an incredible speed, she cared not that all the people were watching them. Aegon and Lyanna were urging Pycelle to go and help Jon while the old fossil slowly made his way to him. Kathrine could hear Nym trying to stop Jon from drifting into unconsciousness. The crowd were whispering to each other but their voice was not enough to block Nym's words. "What do we say to death?" Kathrine frowned at her words, _seriously?_

But Jon did answer, repeating the words he had not long muttered, "Not today." He smiled before he looked up at Pycelle who had finally reached him. But Pycelle was not alone, he had Damon by his side.

 _So here goes Syrio's influence. I just couldn't keep him out of the story. And yeah, he is teaching Jon, Aegon and Nym bits of wisdom._

 _During the last chapter, I said that there are a few notes I wanted to add, but I eventually forgot what I had intended to say -I'm being as senile as Pycelle these days- so here it goes a point I wanted to say. In the modern times, Damon is actually a Targaryen, though Targaryen name doesn't hold the respect anymore for they're mostly Blackfyre off-springs but still he can't just go out there and tell the Targaryens that he's a Targaryen, right? So he uses his mother's maiden name which is Salvatore -we all know it's not, but hey, I couldn't just bring up another name out of nowhere!_

Until next chapter :)


	5. Mad Man's Folly

**Chapter Five: A Mad Man's Folly**

 **Notes:**

I had intended this chapter to be longer, mixed with another POV, but then the second POV turned out too long and I just had to post this one as a 'monoPOV' chapter. To make up for it, the next chapter will be long, with a new POV character.

However, I'm working on longer chapters with only one or two POVs introduced inside, which I guess would make it easier to follow and gives me more space to add some background information _inside_ the text.

 **Summary:** Lyanna tries hard for everyone, and she moves her piece in the game.

 _ **Lyanna:**_

Lyanna followed the group to Maegor's Holdfast, where Damon Salvatore and Ser Arthur were bringing Jon's half-conscious body to his bedchambers. They had to move carefully, lest the bleeding increase. After what seemed like ages they finally put Jon to his bed. His eyes were close, but groaned in pain as he was placed down.

Damon went to arrange for milk of poppy by Pycelle's orders. Lyanna gritted her teeth in frustration, Pycelle was even slower than ever now that they needed him direly. Maester Wyman came a few moments later, to assist Pycelle in his job which made Lyanna glad. Whilst Arthur stayed inside the room by Lyanna's side, Ser Oswell had come and guarded Jon's room from without. Lyanna could hear Nym and Aegon's pleadings to let them inside. However, it was not possible, the chamber was already filled and Pycelle had forbade it from the start. In that matter, Lyanna agreed with him, even though Nym and Aegon meant well, but they would make more noise.

Surprisingly, the sound of Aegon, Nym and Ser Oswell's argument died away. Damon came back inside not a minute later. He gently helped Jon sip from the goblet of milk of poppy.

Then the two maesters started their job, ridding Jon out of his armor. Jon's tunic was soaked with dark red blood that made Lyanna feel sick. She was used to blood, but not her son's blood that drained the life out of him as it poured out. A gentle hand was put on her shoulder, it was Arthur that was trying to comfort her.

It was a painful process to watch, to see hot wine poured the wound and the stitching and all. But Lyanna forced herself to watch for the sake of Jon. It was the least she could do for him. All while the big and fearsome question clung to her mind, would he make it through?

Lyanna dared not ask, considering the amount of blood that was everywhere. From the entrance of Jon's chambers to his bed was a clear trail of the dark red liquid and all his clothes and the sheets around him were soaked in blood. There had even been more outside, where the fight had taken place.

When the stitching finally finished Pycelle turned to Lyanna while Wyman still tended to Jon, "His wound is better than I had expected, your grace. I can assure you that he will live through it." Pycelle answered her unvoiced question and a sense of relief flowed into Lyanna's veins. Nonetheless, the anger came as well, the anger at Jon's foolishness. What had he been thinking with himself?

Lyanna went to his side, gazing at him. His left hand was still bloody and had yet to be tended to. He had cut his palm severely while trying to save his life by gripping Arrec Bracken's sword.

Even the thought of him made Lyanna's blood boil. He had poisoned Rhaegar making it look like Jon's fault and then he had wounded him so gravely. It was a relief that he was now dead.

Lyanna did not even want to think what would had happened if Damon had not found him. Then Rhaegar would not have let Jon to have the chance in a trial by combat. The only reason he had agreed with Arrec Bracken's demand was that Jon had undertook to fight him. The chance of seeing him die had been too alluring for Rhaegar to ignore.

Lyanna stayed by Jon's side along with Arthur while others evacuated the room. Once everyone had left, Ser Oswell came in with a worried look to his face. Even as Arthur assured him that Jon would be alright, the look did not fade. "I heard that, and I'm glad about it," he said, "But it's Aegon and Nymeria I worry about, your grace."

Lyanna frowned, a sense of dread building inside her, "Why?"

"When they left, they left for the king's solar. And they looked angry." He replied grimly, far from his normal arrogant manner.

This could not end well, both her children had hot tempers when they got angry. Nym had it from her northern wolf blood that had combined with Targaryens' temper. And Aegon had Dornish blood mixed with a dragon's fury. They were hard to get truly angry, but when they did none could calm them. Now they were both angry and their anger was directed at Rhaegar. The point was, Rhaegar would in turn get furious at them, and the outcomes of this one were unpredictable.

Reluctant to do so, she pushed herself to her feet, leaving Arthur and Oswell to watch over an unconscious Jon. She strode to Rhaegar's bedchambers, however she need not to get too close to hear the shouts. Sounds of a very heated argument filled the corridor long before she reached the room. Ser Arys and Ser Gerold guarded the room with awkward expressions on their faces, but they had decided to interrupt. Their faces went alarmed as they saw Lyanna coming towards them. They bowed to her and opened the door.

Inside was a hell of a civil war. None heard nor saw her enter the room and kept on shouting. Ser Martyn was also present, trying to calm down everyone. Finally Nym yelled something at Rhaegar that Lyanna could not hear amidst Aegon's own words and Ser Martyn's soft voice. Whatever she said, it caused Rhaegar to turn red with anger, and Nym did not saw the hand coming to her. And the sound of slap was enough to silent the other two. Nym whipped her head from the force of the slap, but recovered quickly, regarding Rhaegar with a scornful look pretty much like one of Lyanna's own ones when she got angry at someone but she could not express it. She also did not miss the hand of Aegon that slowly made its way to his sword.

It was well past dangerous and it had to end, she stepped forward, putting steel in her voice, "Enough!"

All heads turned to her, Nym and Aegon looked worried at her sight. Probably taking her presence as bad news. What shocked Lyanna was Rhaegar's smirk, "So, did we get rid of the boy?" He asked in a mocking tone, pleasure clear in his features.

He took Lyanna's dark mood as a positive answer, and apparently Nym and Aegon did the same. Suddenly all that boldness in Nym's features faded away replacing by a blank look. Aegon wore the same expression as supported Nym's weight on his strong arms. Nym had let go of herself in her brother's arms with a pained wheeze.

Before the situation could grow any direr, Lyanna put a stop to it, "No, he's still alive and he will stay that way." The last part was spat to Rhaegar's face. The childish bliss was turned into a furious expression yet he said not a word.

Lyanna ignored him and gestured for Ser Martyn to leave the room. "You can go and pay him a visit if you like." Lyanna smiled feebly at her children. They obeyed her, understanding the commanding tone underneath.

They all left, leaving Lyanna alone with Rhaegar. Her expression hardened once more afterwards, "You enjoy this all. How can you not see what he's going through?" She demanded, giving him no time to answer, "He did this all for _you_! He was ready to _die_ for you, just to show you he is not who you think him to be. How can you be so cruel?"

"I've had enough of this, woman." Rhaegar snapped, "He is no son of mine and he shall never be one. He is no true dragon, not even a wolf at that." He sneered with anger.

"Have you ever even looked at him? He _is_ your son, Rhaegar!" Lyanna shot back. "He is all like what you were when we married. Though, seeing you now, I actually doubt that I like the fact that he is your son."

"Was that an insult?" Rhaegar asked, his voice dangerously low.

"Yes, it was an insult. Now you can feed me to your prized flames, or would I be honored with a trial by combat as well?" Lyanna challenged him.

Rhaegar made to slap her, but her hand was faster than his and she caught his in time, "Make no mistake, Rhaegar, I'm as much a warrior as you once were, and now you are no warrior anymore. And I will safeguard my children at all costs." Lyanna warned him.

"I don't see a warrior, just some rogue woman." Rhaegar mocked.

"Have you forgotten Harrenhal? Should I compete with you to remind you that?"

"Maybe I should had handed you to my father when he was looking for you."

A gentle knock on the door stopped Lyanna from answering. "Come in," Rhaegar called, his voice thick with anger.

It was Griffjon, "I'm sorry to interrupt, your grace, but there are a few matters we need to talk about." He said as he bowed. Lyanna hoped that he could at least calm Rhaegar down, if he did not, she would just do something she would later regret.

Rhaegar nodded sternly and Lyanna used the chance to leave the room. Any longer and she would draw a sword and kill Rhaegar. She went to the gardens to compose herself and gather her thoughts. Rhaegar would not forget the insults that had been made to him that day, by every single member of his family. Even Viserys had taken act against him last day, before Jon's trial. Their argument had been a loud one, made sometime after the trial. Viserys had been furious and had reminded Rhaegar of the way he had sent Daenerys and Rhaenys away, which in turn had made the king irritated.

Lyanna needed to do something about him, but she had tried for fourteen years and had not succeeded. Maybe it was time to retreat back to the North, with Jon, Nym and Aegon. It was actually an easy thing, they had the support of Varys and many of the Kingsguards sneaking out was the easiest thing to do. But the aftermath would not be pleasant, Rhaegar could start a war on the North for that act.

Nonetheless, the thought inspired her with another temporary solution. She loved the idea of going back home and could set it aside. So as she sat in the gardens, she planned her strategy, tasting every word she wanted to say to Rhaegar in her mind. She sat there for a long time, when she got up the sun was setting in the west.

She hoped that this gap had given Rhaegar enough time to cool down a bit because she could not wait anymore. He was still in his solar, but with Damon Salvatore instead of Jon Connington. Thankfully, he did not seem as angry as he had been before, however, his expression darkened as she entered.

She dipped into a graceful curtsy to gain back his affection. Maybe the presence of Salvatore could even help her reach her own ends, he was secretly on her side after all.

Rhaegar regarded her with a cold look, "What is it?"

She smiled pleasantly, pulling a remorseful face, "I'm sorry about that earlier incident, your grace." She never called him 'your grace', not even in front of the court, but she thought he would like it. "I was overwhelmed by my grief." She added, to show him that she still cared for Jon and would not let him insult her son.

"I'm sure it was so." Rhaegar replied coldly.

"However," she pulled yet another trick and batted her eyelashes prettily, "I was wondering if I can ask you for a great favor."

All while, Damon's eyes were locked on her, clearly understanding that she had some plan up her sleeve. Lyanna hoped that the sellsword would cooperate with her. "And what would that be?" Rhaegar asked.

"A trip," Lyanna waited to see his reaction. Appreciatively it was not anger or displeasure, so she went on, "To the North."

At first she thought he would not accept, in fact she had braced herself for that moment and had a long speech in mind should he decline. But then he smirked as if he knew for sure when the world was going to end. That made both Lyanna and Salvatore shocked.

"Well, it had been a long time. I was wondering why you hadn't ask for it for some time now." He said. Lyanna was dazed by his reply. She had not expected him to say that, but then again, Rhaegar was a mad man, and mad men's actions were hard to predict.

Lyanna hid her surprise under a mask of thankfulness, "So we may go? The children and I?" She asked, wanting to make sure that she meant the twins and Aegon to accompany her.

"Why, of course. Although I would like to join you as well. It has been a long time since we had any connections to the North and we don't know what is happening there."

Then Lyanna knew, it was his paranoia once more. Much like his father's, he mistrusted anyone who lived far from his attentive eyes. But this time, she appreciated that, for otherwise he would not have had let her. Although the fact that he was coming with them bothered her by some, the thought of seeing Winterfell filled her with delight.

"Then I shall write to Ned," Lyanna started.

"I will do it myself, no need to worry." Rhaegar interrupted, for a second he sounded like his old self, loving, tender and rational.

"But..." Lyanna was about to object and tell him that Ned was her brother.

"That's the end of it, I will send a raven myself." Rhaegar's mood changed into a dark one, no longer the noble prince rather the mad king.

Lyanna sighed inwardly but said nothing, knowing that if she pressed the matter he would regret his earlier decision about letting them go to Winterfell.


	6. On the Road Again

**Chapter Six: On the Road Again**

 **Notes:**

Hey there!

So I woke up today and found out that I hadn't posted the last chapter yesterday. Therefore, there would be two chapters today. But I may not be able to post again 'till Saturday. But anyways, enjoy this chapter.

Here I wanted to thank _Master of Dragons God_ who so kindly reviews on every chapter. It's such an encouragement for me to write more and more. Thank you, dear! This chapter is dedicated to you.  
This chapter is titled after Katie Melua's song with the same name. Yep, I'm so obsessed with her right now. You might see more of her songs as chapter titles. By the way, I was thinking of explaining the title reference in each chapter, so it will give you more ideas around each chapter. What do you think 'bout it?

 **Summary:**

Robb witnesses an execution. Jeremy blends in with Starks. Aegon starts his new career as Jon's caretaker. Jon feels bad about the attention he gets.

 _ **Robb:**_

Robb laughed at the way Jeremy handled his sword, "You should hold it higher." He called at the poor Gilbert.

Jeremy was older than Robb, but he was awful with swords. Robb and Theon constantly tried to teach him some lessons in sword fighting. Right now, Jeremy was trying to hold his defenses high as Theon tested him.

A sound made Robb turn to look over his shoulder. He chuckled at the sight, it was Arya, clearly ran away from Septa Mordane. Her cheeks were flushed from running and her skirts were muddied. She reached Robb and smirked a mischievous smirk at him, "It's much more exciting here." She announced.

Robb laughed, "Of course it is, but if you keep running away from your embroidery sessions, there would be an exciting fight to see between you and our lady mother."

Arya scoffed, "I don't care. I hate sitting in a tower all day long."

Robb shrugged, "I thought you liked Lady Bennett."

Bonnie Bennett was Arya's newest friend, she had proved to be another pain in the arse for Septa Mordane in the recent weeks. Whenever Robb passed from where Septa Mordane trained the girls in ladylike arts, he would hear her scolding either Bonnie Bennett or Arya.

"I do, but Septa Mordane doesn't let us talk freely. I don't understand why, because Sansa, Jeyne and Beth are always chatting endlessly." Arya replied, annoyance in her voice.

"Calm down now, little sister," Robb reached to ruffle her hair, "You've come here to watch a combat, so enjoy it before Mother arrives."

Arya did enjoy the fight but it did not last long, not because of their mother, though. Their father came to announce that there was a deserter from the Watch that he had to execute, and that he wanted Robb, Theon and even Bran go with him.

Bran looked both nervous and thrilled about this event. He immediately hopped off from the roof of the armory -where he had been watching Jeremy and Theon fight- and ran to the other side of training yard. Robb did not miss the face Bran made for Arya as he did so, in its exchange, Arya punched Bran in the shoulder.

" _Ouch_! It hurt." Bran yelled.

"You deserved it!" Arya narrowed her eyes at him, "Besides I didn't hit you too hard, stupid."

Robb interfered, if he let them continue, they would eventually hit each other with swords. "Come on now, both of you, behave yourselves." He told his little siblings.

Arya and Bran did not exchange any more words, but they kept glaring at each other. Robb knew how much Arya liked to go with them and seeing that Bran was going too, was not fair for her.

Jeremy also joined the party as Hodor saddled the horses for them. Robb rode on his stallion while Bran rode his pony next to him, never getting further than ten feet away from Robb.

They finally got to where their men had caught the deserter. It was not very far from Winter town. He was an old man with one ear, his clothes were ragged, but their black color revealed him to be a man of Night's Watch. This was not the first deserter that year, and Robb doubted he would be the last either. Winter was truly coming.

As his father unsheathed his greatsword, Robb bent down to mutter in Bran's ear, "Don't look away, if you look away, Father will know."

He could remember his first execution vividly, he was ten at that time but Bran was only seven. Robb worried that he might be petrified of what was to come.

However, Bran proved him wrong, he watched boldly as their father beheaded the man with Ice and did not even flinch. Though Robb could still see the disgusted look on his face when Theon threw the head away with his foot. Robb barely hid his own disgust.

"Good job, Bran." Robb praised his brother.

Bran smiled nervously at him, "Do you think he was scared?" He asked.

It was their father who answered, "Aye, he was, but he was also a brave man."

Bran looked confused. Robb recalled the very same conversation with his father when he had seen his first execution. "How can a man be brave when he's scared, Father?" Robb had asked, and Bran now asked the same question.

"It's the only time a man can be brave." Their father replied.

Robb smiled at that sentence, Stark wisdom, he mused. He liked the way his house was different from all those Southron houses with their talks of pride and magnificence. Starks were harsh when it came to enemies, but they also knew that glory was not everything. They respected honor, duty and well-being of their people.

Theon's words shot him out of his musings, "Are you in for a race, Robb?" He asked him.

"Aye," Robb replied but before the words were out of his mouth, he had already urged his horse into a gallop. A few seconds later, Theon was behind him, a good feet away from the tail of Robb's stallion. Jeremy soon followed their suit, but he was far from Robb and Theon. They soon parted the main party and rode forward into the woods that lead to Winterfell. The sound of their laughter filled the air about them. Robb was now by far the one in the front. Thus, he saw it first.

He pulled his horse to a halt immediately at the sight, his laughter died in his throat. In front of him lay a dead stag, his stomach torn open and his guts were out on the ground.

Theon and Jeremy got to him some moments after that, both freezing at the sight. Seeing a dead stag in a forest was not unconventional, but the savage way his flesh had been torn open made Robb think that no normal wolf had attacked it. The blood still oozed from ugly wounds in the stag's body and it was obvious that whatever that had done that was not far away from the trio. Even the thought made Robb quiver.

He reached for his sword, not that it would truly help him, but he felt better with it, less vulnerable. Some squawking noises turned his attention further north. He dismounted his horse and carefully made his way towards the sounds. Behind another curtain of trees, Robb stopped once more, having reached the source of the noise.

He could hear his father's party stopping where the dead stag was. But he paid no heed, for he was half-frozen in his tracks. In front of him was an impossible scene, something that made Robb doubted they were even in Wolfswood, he somehow expected to be Beyond the Wall. It was a dead wolf, larger than any normal wolf, and the antlers of the dead stag was stuck out of its throat. Around her were some five squealing little pups, all trying to grasp the hardened and dead nipples of the dead wolf.

By that time his father and his men had come there, all gaping in silence at the scene. It was until Bran broke the silence, "What's that?" He asked in a low tone.

Theon looked equally stunned, but he was the one that replied, "It's a freak."

Robb shot him a look, despite all the years that Theon had spent in the North and Winterfell, he could not still recognize the living sigils of house Stark. "It's a _direwolf_." He corrected Theon with a stern tone. And then he bent down and grabbed one of the pups by the scruff of its neck.

"But they haven't been seen south of the Wall for hundreds of years." Jory said.

"They won't last long anyway." Theon shrugged as Robb handed the pup to Bran and made to pick up some others.

He had no intention of letting the pups die, they were his house's sigil, like the way that dragons were house Targaryen's sigil. As if reading his thoughts, Jeremy spoke up for Robb, "Lord Stark," Jeremy said, his firm tone made Robb's father look at him instantly and Jeremy went on, "There are five of them, you have five children, maybe they are some sort of a sign." Jeremy continued in the same firm but soft tone.

Bran pleaded their father with his eyes and Robb nodded in agreement with Jeremy. The look on their father's face softened some and he finally nodded, "You'll feed them yourselves, you'll train them yourselves, and if they die, you'll bury them yourselves." He said, causing Bran you make a sound of utter joy and Robb beamed.

He gathered the rest of the pups, handing two of them to Jeremy while holding two himself. As the party made their way back to their horses, Robb and his father were the last ones in the group. The look on his father's face was surprisingly a pained one, the one that Robb had not seen many times except for when he received ravens from King's Landing. That look made Robb astonished, why was he pulling _that_ face now?

He did not know what, but something made him stop and search the nearby bush and tree. He was surprised that he actually found something there. They were two more direwolves, both white as snow with eyes red as fire which shone like rubies under the sun.

As Robb tried to handle the other two direwolves in his already full arms, his father looked back. When he saw Robb and the other two direwolves, his whole face lit up, there was no trace of that pained look there. He took the albino direwolves from Robb, gently letting them rest in his arms.

When they got back, Theon smirked, "You found the runts of the litter, Robb? These ones will die even faster."

Robb opened his mouth to answer, but his father talked first. "I don't think so, Theon. They are gifts for the prince and princess." He smiled.

Robb now understood the meaning of that sad face and then his father's joy as they found the other two direwolves. He had wanted direwolves for Lyanna's children as well. Robb could not understand why his father cared deeply for his sister's children. He would be worried for them as though as they were his own, but they lived thousands of leagues away and his father had never before met them. Well, except for when they were born, Robb thought.

They made their way back to Winterfell and there Robb presented the direwolves to his siblings, who accepted them with starry eyes.

Robb smiled as Arya and Sansa were fighting over naming their direwolves. He observed his own one, thinking of a proper name. His had grey coat with eyes that shone like onyx, it was as swift as late summer breeze even though not even a day's old. Robb suddenly came up with something and announced it to his siblings, "Grey Wind."

Arya frowned, probably thinking why she had not come up with that name before Robb. Robb smirked mischievously at her. Sansa finally announced hers, causing Arya to roll her eyes, "Lady."

Robb tried his best not to do the same thing as Arya and roll his eyes, instead he pulled a gentle smile to his face. Rickon was jumping up and down around his direwolf as he called his name, "Shaggydog, come here."

This one was truly hard not to laugh at, and they all -except for Rickon- burst out laughing. Even Sansa laughed hard, for once forgetting her ladylike manners. Robb was enjoying the moment.

Nonetheless, he was interrupted by Jeremy, who came into the cannels. He was now the unofficial squire of Robb's father. "Your father wants to see you, Robb." He informed.

Sansa looked up as well, her eyes shining as she looked at Jeremy. As usual, she had fallen immediately for the handsome stranger at the first glance. Robb had no problem with that as long as it was just some one sided affection that consisted of Sansa's dreamy looks and Jeremy's innocent ignorance.

Leaving his newly named direwolf pup behind, Robb got up and took the route to his father's solar. Jeremy stopped him, "He's in the godswood."

Robb nodded as they both turned to the woods, he should have had known. Beheading a deserter meant that Eddard Stark spent at least an hour or two in the godswood. What surprised Robb when they got to the heart tree, was that his father was not alone, his mother was also there, both with stern faces.

"Father, Mother," Robb acknowledged them as Jeremy left with a clumsy bow.

"Robb, come here." His father's tone sent chills down Robb's spine, there was a queer of anger.

Growing ever more worried, Robb went forward, "What is it?"

"We would be having guests here soon. Special guests." Ned started. Robb gave him a curious look, why would visitors make his father so dour?

"Lyanna is coming here," his tone softened a bit but a frown replaced it at the second part of his sentence, "With the king and half of the court."

Robb was confused, why would the arrival of the king make his father so angry? Especially when his own sister was coming as well? He had heard of the tales about Rhaegar's newly found madness, but certainly it was not that bad. Or was it? His father's mood told him otherwise.

"We must prepare, then." Robb finally replied, not knowing what they wanted from him.

"Aye, we must." His father nodded, "But I want you to personally see to the royal children's needs. They are both your age."

Robb frowned, "Both? Prince Aegon is not coming?"

His father's mood got even darker at the question, "No, he is coming, it is Aemon who is staying behind. Well, not for sure, but still."

"Why would he not come?" Robb asked.

"There was a mention of him being injured, but the king had not written much beyond that. He might still come, this is not certain." His mother answered his question.

There were a thousand more questions that swirled in his mind, like the reason that the king had written the letter instead of Lyanna herself. Or why Aemon was injured so badly that he could not come. Robb kept them all to himself, not wanting to disturb his parents. He only voiced his enthusiasm to help Aegon and Visenya when they arrived.

 _ **Jon:**_

Jon smiled, he was about to see his mother's home. The prospects of the journey filled him with a childish excitement. His condition had gotten better enough to let him ride a horse without much problem. At first, he had thought he was not going to make it to the deadline of leaving King's Landing. But during the days, he had gotten better. His wounds still throbbed every now and then, making him feel useless. He could not yet hold a sword and fight with his siblings, but he could get up and walk without opening his stitches or losing his balance. Both had happened to him in the past fortnight, the first time was he had woke up from the aftermath of his duel with Bracken, exited enough to think himself as mighty as he had been before the combat. Before a half-asleep Nym and a worried Aegon could stop him, he had gotten to his feet confidently. Only to fall back with a sharp, pained cry, it had not been long before his mother came into his now-dark bedchambers. At first she had thought him asleep, coming in like a ghost but as she had seen him, she had promptly panicked and called for Maester Wyman.

In his painful and hazy state of mind, he had seen his blood all over the sheets once again, pouring out of his now-open wound. The pain of this time had been far worse than the first, for Jon had been fully awake and conscious of what happened around him. Even the milk of poppy had not helped as it had the first time, only adding dizziness to Jon's problems.

When he had finally regained his energy a few days later, he had more than once tried to leave the constraint of his chambers, mostly unsuccessful. He had lost his balance more than a dozen times, each time there had been someone to catch him before he could hurt himself. Be it his mother, siblings or his squire Edric, Ser Arthur or even Damon and Griffjon. Jon had never before felt as vulnerable and pathetic as he had felt during the first week and some odd days. But now he was much better.

Edric helped him pack his things for the long journey north, and Jon instructed him from where he sat on his bed. He was still trying to regain his breath after ascending the steps leading to his chambers at Maegor's. Every now and then Edric would look up with a worried look on his face and Jon would have to calm him down with a smile.

"I'm fine Edric." Jon finally said after Edric cast him another long look.

"Are you sure, my prince? Shouldn't I send after a maester?" He asked.

Jon shook his head instantly, "No, no, I just need some fresh air that is not so darn hot."

Edric smiled at that, being a Dornishman he had no problem with heat, but Jon had always felt uneasy in the hot and damp weather of King's Landing. He could not wait to breathe the fresh and cool air of the North.

They started off at the first light of the next morning, a large party consisted of all sorts of people. As Jon looked behind, he thought that this party was large enough to ride to a battle instead of just visiting a castle in the North. All of the Kingsguard members were present, along with Ser Martyn Mullendore and some twenty odd of his men. Many of the queen's ladies-in-waiting were travelling with them as well as Nym's one and only Lady Kathrine.

Damon rode next to Jon and Aegon as they chatted about the journey. Griffjon Connington, however, was not present. He had been left behind in the capital to tend to the affairs of the realm in absence of the king. Jon thought that many lives would be saved in their absence, for Griffjon was much fairer than the king when it came to criminals.

Viserys had stayed as well, with Dany coming to King's Landing from Dragonstone, they helped Griffjon with his duties. Almost all other members of the Small Council had stayed behind save for Renly Baratheon and the Lord Commander of Kingsguard, Ser Gerold.

Judging by the process of the first day, they were going to spent a moon's turn on the road. When they stopped at night, they had not gotten far away from the city. In fact, Jon expected to see King's Landing's outline if it was not dark.

Thankfully, the tents were soon installed, ready for use. Hours of riding a horse had taken its toll on Jon and he felt exhausted and drained of energy. He half-expected his stitches to burst open at any minute.

He shared a tent with Aegon due to limits of the amount of supplies they could carry with themselves. They had no problem with it, though. Truth be told, Aegon had spent half of the past fortnight by Jon's side, drifting to sleep next to his sickbed. There was not much different if not better than those times.

Jon left his mount to Edric's care and slowly made his way to the tent. Aegon was already inside, getting out of his clothes. The candles cast long shadows on the walls of the tent, and they flickered as Jon flapped the tent entrance open and then closed it again.

Aegon turned to face him with a face as worried as Edric's, "Seven hells, Jon! You're as white as snow." He rushed to him, half-naked.

"I'm fine, Aeg." Jon lied, he was feeling like he had been trodden by a half a dozen fuming horses.

Awkwardly Aegon saw through that lie, too. He used his body as a support for Jon's limp one and gently guided him to his bed, helping him undress. It was humiliating how Jon had to rely on other people to do those simple tasks for him. He groaned as Aegon got too close to his wound, causing his brother to jerk up in apology and continue his work even more mildly if possible.

When he finally got rid of those heavy leathers, he crawled under his bed sheets, beaming gratefully at Aegon. "Thank you," he managed to whisper.

"Just get some rest and I'll get us something to eat. I'm not sure about you, brother, but I'm starving." He smirked before turning away to do as he had just implied.

Jon did not sleep, but he had a nice slumber before a servant came with two trays of food and wine for them. Having regained his energy, Jon got up and went to the small table that was set between his and Aegon's beds.

The food was fresh and hot, and Jon was hungry. It did not take long for the pair to finish their meals, downing them with some Dornish Sour. The warmth of the spicy wine took care of the last remnants of Jon's fatigue. They remained sitting at the table, sipping another goblet of wine.

"Are you two awake?" A voice called from outside and Nym ducked her head inside the tent. She grinned as she saw them and came inside. There were only two chairs inside and Nym had to sit at the edge of Aegon's bed. Her face was lit under the candlelight and the faded bruise was even more evident. Nym had refused to tell her how she had gotten that, but since Jon had woke up after the combat, she had it. At first it had been a terrible sight to look upon and even a fortnight had not affected it much.

Aegon offered her his goblet of wine and she accepted it without hesitation, "I've had some but I can't decline you, Aeg." She grinned.

They sat there for another hour until it grew too late to be proper for Nym to stay there, even though they were her brothers, but Targaryens were not known for caring about such matters.

Once she left, Aegon and Jon got up as well, unable to stay awake for even one more minute. Jon drifted to sleep as soon as his head touched the pillow and Aegon's soft snores could be heard not long after that.

Jon smiled, he was about to see his mother's home. The prospects of the journey filled him with a childish excitement. His condition had gotten better enough to let him ride a horse without much problem. At first, he had thought he was not going to make it to the deadline of leaving King's Landing. But during the days, he had gotten better. His wounds still throbbed every now and then, making him feel useless. He could not yet hold a sword and fight with his siblings, but he could get up and walk without opening his stitches or losing his balance. Both had happened to him in the past fortnight, the first time was he had woke up from the aftermath of his duel with Bracken, exited enough to think himself as mighty as he had been before the combat. Before a half-asleep Nym and a worried Aegon could stop him, he had gotten to his feet confidently. Only to fall back with a sharp, pained cry, it had not been long before his mother came into his now-dark bedchambers. At first she had thought him asleep, coming in like a ghost but as she had seen him, she had promptly panicked and called for Maester Wyman.

In his painful and hazy state of mind, he had seen his blood all over the sheets once again, pouring out of his now-open wound. The pain of this time had been far worse than the first, for Jon had been fully awake and conscious of what happened around him. Even the milk of poppy had not helped as it had the first time, only adding dizziness to Jon's problems.

When he had finally regained his energy a few days later, he had more than once tried to leave the constraint of his chambers, mostly unsuccessful. He had lost his balance more than a dozen times, each time there had been someone to catch him before he could hurt himself. Be it his mother, siblings or his squire Edric, Ser Arthur or even Damon and Griffjon. Jon had never before felt as vulnerable and pathetic as he had felt during the first week and some odd days. But now he was much better.

Edric helped him pack his things for the long journey north, and Jon instructed him from where he sat on his bed. He was still trying to regain his breath after ascending the steps leading to his chambers at Maegor's. Every now and then Edric would look up with a worried look on his face and Jon would have to calm him down with a smile.

"I'm fine Edric." Jon finally said after Edric cast him another long look.

"Are you sure, my prince? Shouldn't I send after a maester?" He asked.

Jon shook his head instantly, "No, no, I just need some fresh air that is not so darn hot."

Edric smiled at that, being a Dornishman he had no problem with heat, but Jon had always felt uneasy in the hot and damp weather of King's Landing. He could not wait to breathe the fresh and cool air of the North.

They started off at the first light of the next morning, a large party consisted of all sorts of people. As Jon looked behind, he thought that this party was large enough to ride to a battle instead of just visiting a castle in the North. All of the Kingsguard members were present, along with Ser Martyn Mullendore and some twenty odd of his men. Many of the queen's ladies-in-waiting were travelling with them as well as Nym's one and only Lady Kathrine.

Damon rode next to Jon and Aegon as they chatted about the journey. Griffjon Connington, however, was not present. He had been left behind in the capital to tend to the affairs of the realm in absence of the king. Jon thought that many lives would be saved in their absence, for Griffjon was much fairer than the king when it came to criminals.

Viserys had stayed as well, with Dany coming to King's Landing from Dragonstone, they helped Griffjon with his duties. Almost all other members of the Small Council had stayed behind save for Renly Baratheon and the Lord Commander of Kingsguard, Ser Gerold.

Judging by the process of the first day, they were going to spent a moon's turn on the road. When they stopped at night, they had not gotten far away from the city. In fact, Jon expected to see King's Landing's outline if it was not dark.

Thankfully, the tents were soon installed, ready for use. Hours of riding a horse had taken its toll on Jon and he felt exhausted and drained of energy. He half-expected his stitches to burst open at any minute.

He shared a tent with Aegon due to limits of the amount of supplies they could carry with themselves. They had no problem with it, though. Truth be told, Aegon had spent half of the past fortnight by Jon's side, drifting to sleep next to his sickbed. There was not much different if not better than those times.

Jon left his mount to Edric's care and slowly made his way to the tent. Aegon was already inside, getting out of his clothes. The candles cast long shadows on the walls of the tent, and they flickered as Jon flapped the tent entrance open and then closed it again.

Aegon turned to face him with a face as worried as Edric's, "Seven hells, Jon! You're as white as snow." He rushed to him, half-naked.

"I'm fine, Aeg." Jon lied, he was feeling like he had been trodden by a half a dozen fuming horses.

Awkwardly Aegon saw through that lie, too. He used his body as a support for Jon's limp one and gently guided him to his bed, helping him undress. It was humiliating how Jon had to rely on other people to do those simple tasks for him. He groaned as Aegon got too close to his wound, causing his brother to jerk up in apology and continue his work even more mildly if possible.

When he finally got rid of those heavy leathers, he crawled under his bed sheets, beaming gratefully at Aegon. "Thank you," he managed to whisper.

"Just get some rest and I'll get us something to eat. I'm not sure about you, brother, but I'm starving." He smirked before turning away to do as he had just implied.

Jon did not sleep, but he had a nice slumber before a servant came with two trays of food and wine for them. Having regained his energy, Jon got up and went to the small table that was set between his and Aegon's beds.

The food was fresh and hot, and Jon was hungry. It did not take long for the pair to finish their meals, downing them with some Dornish Sour. The warmth of the spicy wine took care of the last remnants of Jon's fatigue. They remained sitting at the table, sipping another goblet of wine.

"Are you two awake?" A voice called from outside and Nym ducked her head inside the tent. She grinned as she saw them and came inside. There were only two chairs inside and Nym had to sit at the edge of Aegon's bed. Her face was lit under the candlelight and the faded bruise was even more evident. Nym had refused to tell her how she had gotten that, but since Jon had woke up after the combat, she had it. At first it had been a terrible sight to look upon and even a fortnight had not affected it much.

Aegon offered her his goblet of wine and she accepted it without hesitation, "I've had some but I can't decline you, Aeg." She grinned.

They sat there for another hour until it grew too late to be proper for Nym to stay there, even though they were her brothers, but Targaryens were not known for caring about such matters.

Once she left, Aegon and Jon got up as well, unable to stay awake for even one more minute. Jon drifted to sleep as soon as his head touched the pillow and Aegon's soft snores could be heard not long after that.


	7. Meet the Starks

**Chapter Seven: Meet the Starks**

 **Notes:** So here we go for another monoPOV chapter -seriously, does this term even exist?- and explore Ned and a tad bit of Lyanna's feelings. This chapter is heavily based on Ned's first chapter in _Game of Thrones_ just replace some characters with some others, and there you have it, a very exclusive Stark reunion!

And in case you're wondering, the title is based on the movie Meet the Parents -and its sequels- which I guess serves well for this chapter.

 **Summary:** Starks line up for a family portrait and Targaryens make an excellent image of a shattered family. Aegon receives lots of comments and Jon gets murderous glares.

 _ **Ned:**_

Ned straightened up, there was a long day to look up to and he had gotten up before sunrise. Cat had done the same, making last minute preparations for the arrival of the royal party.

The early hours of the morning went in a blur. Ned would just go to Maester Luwin's solar and it would take half an hour. He was in the Great Hall when Bran suddenly burst inside the room, full of energy and happiness, "I saw them! They're coming!"

It would take another hour before the royal party would reach Winterfell's gates but that last hour was spent in organizing the folks in the courtyard. Pinning Arya, Bran and Rickon to one place was the hardest thing. While Robb stood as stiff as a stick and Sansa glowered at her siblings from her place next to Robb, the other three would not calm down. Arya had a helm on her head when Ned finally caught her and put her next to Sansa. Bran was found climbing the towers for a 'better view' by Cat and was also pinned into place next to Arya. Rickon finally let go of Shaggydog and choose to cling to his mother's skirts instead.

Even as the great gates opened, Arya and Sansa were having a low-toned fight. Apparently Arya kept asking questions from Sansa which made her angry. Sansa was all regal and a great image of a lady. She was undoubtedly excited by the idea of having the beautiful Queen Lyanna and the pretty Princess Visenya in her home and the thought of the handsome Prince Aegon had inspired her to no end, letting alone the legendary King Rhaegar.

Ned would should have had warned her, for he knew almost none of her thoughts would prove true. He knew for sure that Lya and Visenya would not spend their time embroidering with Sansa and other ladies. In fact, Ned would not be surprised to find them in the training yard with swords in their hands. Rhaegar would not be the legendary king either, for he was now an image of his father according to Lya. However, none of these made Ned feel any less happy. For he would soon see Lya after so long. His beloved sister was coming back home.

"Is Prince Aemon not really coming?" Arya's hushed tone came once more.

"Shut up, Arya." Sansa murmured to her sister.

But as much as Ned wanted to ignore it, there had been nothing in the king's letter to indicate why Aemon was not attending. If he was truly injured, then it should have been a very bad injury to prevent him from coming, and Ned did not have much doubt that it somehow was related to Rhaegar himself. In her letters, Lya had mentioned how unfair and cruel he was towards his youngest son.

A horn sounded and the heavy gates opened as a response. Ned looked outside at the great party that was coming to Winterfell. The first row left not much to see of its back. However, Ned could only see two members of the Kingsguard and some other members of Targaryen guard. Bran almost jumped in the excitement of seeing the two white cloaked knights. One of them was Ser Barristan Selmy and the other one Ser Gerold Hightower.

As the men filled the yard, they cleared the view to the rest of the party, the royal family. Ned gasped inwardly at the sight of his sister. She was riding a beautiful silver destrier and her black hair was left loose in the wind. She had been a true northern beauty when she had left and now she was even more stunning if possible.

When Ned finally lifted his gaze from Lya and looked next to her, he could not believe that this man was Rhaegar Targaryen. The once mighty warrior and noble prince was gone and Ned could see Aerys in his features. A frown adorned his pale face and he looked about the courtyard with disdain.

When he and Lya finally entered Winterfell, Ned had no option but to kneel, which made him unable to see the rest of his sister's family. All others behind him followed his suit and knelt down, even the guards. Ned could still hear Arya and Bran talking with each other in hushed voices, but he could not make out what they were saying anymore as their voices were lost in the sound of countless hooves.

Rhaegar and Lyanna both dismounted, coming toward Ned. He glanced up nervously, from close, Lyanna looked even more beautiful and Rhaegar even crueler. Ned felt a pang of anger from what he did to his sister and her children.

"Lord Stark, please get up." Rhaegar's tone was icy and commanding.

Ned got back to his feet and all others did the same. He bowed to the king, "Your grace, it is such a great honor to have you here in our home." He said, equally cold and strict.

Rhaegar merely nodded, letting Lyanna forward. She almost ran to him and before Ned could say anything, she threw her arms around Ned, pulling him into an embrace.

"I've missed you, Ned." Lyanna murmured into his ear.

"So did I, Lya." He smiled and whispered back.

Ned did not miss the hot tears that fell from Lyanna's eyes and he felt his own eyes getting moist. Lyanna just pulled away before they could both burst in tears and wiped away the tears from her face in one fast motion. The courtyard was now filled with Targaryens and their men, so Ned could no longer spot Lya's children. But they came forward on their own, encouraged with a warm smile from Lya. As Catelyn greeted the king, Lya gathered the children in front of Ned's family. All three were there, Visenya and her brothers. It was easy to say which were the twins, they had nothing Targaryen about them, at least not in the first look, while Aegon was a true image of a dragon.

When Cat finished greeting the king and queen, Lyanna motioned for her children to come forward. First Aegon was presented to them, his violet eyes shining with interest as he looked around. He seemed a good lad, but Ned did not trust the looks anymore, not after seeing Rhaegar.

Then Visenya was introduced, she was just like her mother, a northern she-wolf. That defiance in her eyes was enough for Ned to say so. She seemed joyful, though, being in her mother's lands.

Lastly, was Aemon. _Another wolf of the North_ , Ned decided. But whatever this wolf was, he looked pale and sickly, even ready to collapse in front of Ned. He had tried to stay on his feet by his own, but he had not succeeded and it was Aegon who supported his figure.

However pale and sick, Ned could see that he had not been like that from the start, Aemon had the lean and fit body of a warrior and Ned did not doubt that he truly was one. He gave Ned and Cat a clumsy bow as he leaned forward to kiss Cat's knuckles, ignoring his own state. During this process, Ned did not miss those vicious looks that Rhaegar casted Aemon. If looks could kill, Aemon should be dead by that one. But he ignored his father completely as he went back to Aegon's side, once more letting his brother hold him firmly.

Ned tried to distract himself from Aemon, for he needed all his mind to introduce his own children to the royal family. One by one Ned presented them to Lya and Rhaegar. Rhaegar only nodded in acknowledgement at each one while Lyanna did the real greeting.

She smiled at Robb and told him to call her 'aunt' and not 'your grace' and stated that she hoped he would become good friends with her _boys._ Sansa was gifted with a peck on the cheek as Lyanna told her how pretty she was. Arya was given an exclusive mischievous smile from Lyanna which made her smile in the same way in return, causing Aegon to laugh at the scene, though not very openly. A fade smile lit up Aemon's pained face as well and they both said something to Visenya that made her grin.

Bran was told how much of a warrior he was and Rickon was stolen from the ground by Lyanna so she could kiss him on the cheeks.

After this little reunion, Lya turned her face to Ned. That joy in her face faded in an instant and was replaced by a solemn one, "May I go to the crypts, Ned?" She asked. Rhaegar seemed as if he was ready to protest, but Lya silenced him with a deadly stare.

Cat said that she and Robb would see to the royal family and Ned nodded at his sister, offering his arm to her as they walked away.

A member of Kingsguard, Ser Arthur, followed them to the entrance but Lya told him to stay there as they descended the steps. Once in the darkness and out of earshot, Lya sighed heavily, "It's been too long, Ned. The south is melting me away."

Ned squeezed her hand, "I'm so sorry Lya, but did you have to be so stubborn?"

"It's not what I had to be. Rhaegar was gentle, decent and caring, but now he is a wrathful and cruel monster who hates his own son." She sighed again, this time tears rolling down her cheeks. "If I only knew, Ned..." Her voice trailed off as she sobbed silently.

Ned instantly stopped to embrace her and sooth his little sister.

"It's alright, Lya. You're home now." He whispered to her.

"But I won't stay here forever. I wish I could, but it's impossible. Soon, I'll have to go back south and see Jon being tortured by Rhaegar, to see Nym being denied the freedom she deserves and see Aegon trying to make the wrongs of Rhaegar right. I'm tired, Ned. Not tired of my duties, tired of seeing what he does to my children."

Ned did not say anything this time, he just held on to her even tighter until she calmed down. He then let go of her, giving her a rare warm smile which she replied with a smile of her own. Without any other words, they continued their way to Brandon and Father's statues. Lya swallowed hard, trying to control herself from breaking into tears once more. She went forward and stared at their look-alikes. She had shed all her tears a few minutes ago and there was none left for her father and brother. "It's all my fault." She whispered hoarsely. "If I hadn't ran away with that mad fool... But he wasn't mad nor fool those days." She continued, ever so gloomy.

Ned was at a loose of words, he could only comfort her by a hand on her shoulder until she finally decided it was time to leave, "Rhaegar would get angry." She stated as they were making their way back.

Arthur Dayne greeted them with a mysterious smile. "What is it, Arthur?" Lyanna asked.

"See it for yourself, your grace. I won't ruin the surprise." Ser Arthur replied as he followed them to the courtyard.

Ned could guess what it was, but he did not ruin the fun either. In the middle of the courtyard, was a man all in black, having just dismounted his horse.

Lya gasped happily and ran to him, "Benjen!" She exclaimed.

Benjen turned to face her with a slight smirk, "Your grace." He addressed her formally.

Lyanna punched him playfully, "I'm your sister, idiot."

Ned laughed as he in turn welcomed his little brother. For a moment, they were that cheerful family once more, until they remembered Brandon was not there anymore.

Benjen looked around the castle, searching for someone, "So where's this little she-wolf you were to bring us?"

"I don't know, she must be in her room." Lya replied with a smile.

"And that dragon prince? Did the snob came as well?" Benjen asked, his voice cold.

"He's no longer a prince, Benjen, and better not to call him that here." Lya warned him, her tone dropping to a whisper.

"I meant his son, Aegon." Benjen corrected.

Lya scowled Benjen with a defensive manner, "He's a good boy, Ben, and don't you call him that again. He's as much as my child as Nym and Jon."

Benjen retreated, changing the subject, "Who are Nym and Jon?"

Ned suppressed a laugh as Lyanna sighed with wide eyes, "Seven hells, Ben! They are my children!"

"I thought they were named Visenya and Aemon." Benjen frowned in confusion.

"By their father, yes. But they hate those names and only use them in front of Rhaegar. In private they're Nymeria and Jon." She explained at length. "Also, before you ask, Jon is here as well."

"Is he better? Ned wrote that he was injured." Benjen asked with concern.

Lya's mood darkened at the mention of injury, "Not much better, but still better than the first days." She sighed.

"What had happened?" Ned asked curiously.

"Not here, I'll tell you later. Maybe tonight, after the feast. Just don't get drunk alone." She grinned, "I have plans for sneaking out."

Ned nodded, beaming. He could already anticipate a hangover on the morrow, but it did not matter, he enjoyed getting drunk with his siblings.

The night at the feast started well enough and Ned hoped it would last. Everything went as planned, Cat came in with Rhaegar as Ned accompanied Lyanna. Aegon was matched with a jubilant Sansa and Robb and Visenya walked in laughing at some jest. Aemon was also present, limping his way to the dais with Arya as company. He smiled despite the pain he obviously felt and Arya smiled at him in return. Superficially they had been bond very quickly. Ned had been afraid that Arya might act rudely with the young prince, but either Aemon was comprehending her well or Arya was actually being friendly or both.

Ned gave a short speech about how glad they were to have the royal party in their humble home and all. Rhaegar barely acknowledged him when he was finished, there was not much to expect from him, Ned knew.

During the feast, the king locked his gaze at Aemon who was clearly uncomfortable by those looks, but he hid it well behind smiles he occasionally gave his siblings or cousins. Ned pitied him greatly, he did not deserve any of those hatred the king had for him. Next to him, Lyanna distracted both herself and Ned with happy chatter, she told him of south but mostly she reminisced the past. Causing Rhaegar to cast her skeptical looks.

On the lower dais, where the children sat and laughed at each other's stories, was another world. A world filled with true joy, or at least more so than the heavy air that hung above where the king and queen sat with Cat and Ned himself. Down there, Sansa was talking excitedly with Prince Aegon and was clearly trying to charm him. Aemon, Visenya and Robb were deep in conversation while Arya tried to gain their attentions.

The fire and candles cast a warm light to the hall, coloring everything in their orange shade. Whereas Aemon did not look as pale and sickly under that light, his sister had horribly changed. The flickering light made a fading bruise visible on her right cheek, a long one that stretched from under cheekbones to her chin. Ned could easily say she had been slapped hard, especially considering the pale trace of a cut amidst the bruises.

Lya saw what he was staring at and put her hand on his, "I'll tell you later." She murmured as an answer to his unvoiced question. Ned nodded sternly, averting his gaze from that terrifying scene. Once or twice the got Rhaegar to talk, but he did not say much, all of which cold and distant.

Finally the meal finished and the music started playing. Ned danced the first round with Cat and the second one with Lya, after that dance they quickly sneaked away from the hall and to the cool of night. There, Benjen was waiting for them with two bottles of Arbor Gold in his hands. Without any other word, they quietly made their way to the Broken Tower. Not that someone would punish them for sneaking out, but it just felt good to have the thrill of being caught.

Once settled inside one of the upper empty rooms, they started their own feast. Lyanna had arranged for three glass goblets and two more bottles, these two Dornish Red, to be brought there. Benjen opened one of them and poured them their fill. Then they burst out into laughter.

"I haven't sneaked anywhere for years now." Lya said.

Benjen and Ned agreed with her. They laughed some more until they came back to the bitter reality around them. "What has happened to Aemon, Lya?" Ned asked after their laughter died away.

"Jon, his name's Jon." Lya corrected him darkly. "Rhaegar was poisoned about a moon's turn before we set off for here." She started.

"Poisoned?" Benjen asked, taken aback.

Lyanna nodded, "He instantly accused Jon for poisoning him. He had his guards capture Jon and put him in the dungeons. We easily found the kitchen maid who had added the poison to Rhaegar's food and she said that Jon had given her the poison and instructed her to do it."

Ned was suddenly shocked, it was unlike the solemn and gloomy prince to do such. Lyanna continued, "But we found out that it hadn't been Jon, rather someone who wanted to blame him. Then Damon Salvatore, a new friend of the boys and a trusted advisor of Rhaegar's purposed to help. He found the man behind the poisoning and had him admit that in Jon's trial. It was someone named Arrec Bracken, a cousin of the Brackens in Riverlands." Lya paused to catch her breath.

"Then he asked for a trial by combat and before Rhaegar could even agree, Jon spoke up and said that he wanted to be the crown's champion. I begged Rhaegar to refuse, but the chance of watching Jon die was too appealing for him. And he did nearly die. He was stabbed right in the stomach and fatally wounded. It's a miracle that he's still alive. As I stood vigil by his side, Aegon and Nym had decided to act. They went to Rhaegar himself, almost ready to kill him. When I arrived, Nym told Rhaegar something that caused him to slap her so hard that I can still hear my ears ringing." Lya's voice was angry and hoarse, "So hard that even now, a moon's turn later, it has not yet faded. And you can easily see how Jon is faring."

They were silent, it had been a series of brutal events. Jon's limp and frail form came into Ned's mind, how he had to support his weight on his brother and the way he grimaced with his every move. It was obvious that the wound was not one that would heal easily and as Lya had said, it was a great miracle that he was still breathing. Lyanna told them more, of how much blood had been spilled the day of the trial and how Jon had suffered the opening of his wounds not long after he had taken them.

"Elia was right to leave, I wish I had done the same. If only to spare Jon from his misery." She finally added.

"But why would he even volunteer to fight Bracken?" Benjen asked, doubt filling his tone.

"Because he needs to be approved by Rhaegar, he felt obligated to kill the man who had done his father wrong. And yet Rhaegar scorns him every day, he curses Jon with every breath he takes and I have to witness all these things." Lyanna was not sad, just furious, the wine had also helped her temper.

"Is he considered my kin?" Benjen asked.

"Why?"

"Because I don't have a problem with being a kingslayer, we have many of them at the Wall. But I don't want to become a kinslayer as well." He said, half-joking and half-serious.


	8. The Pretty Vampire Liars

**Chapter Eight: The Pretty Vampire Liars**

 **Summary:** Aegon gets drunk but still enjoys being the eldest son of Rhaegar. Damon plots with Kathrine and meets some old friends. Aegon and Jon offer their service as a house customization agency.

 _ **Aegon:**_

Aegon enjoyed the feast, he got so drunk that he was the one who needed Jon's help to get back to his chambers, instead of helping him. Jon was completely sober but his physical condition was not much better than Aegon, to anyone else, they must have looked like a pair of drunken princes.

"Where's Jyke?" He grumbled as he sat down on his bed, his head felt heavy on his shoulders.

"I'll get him." Jon instantly said and he was about to leave when Aegon remembered how sick his brother was and he felt a pang of guilt.

"No need, stay here." He said before Jon could hurt himself.

He was not willing, but he gave up to his weak body and came back to Aegon, sitting next to him.

Aegon did not know how, but they both fell asleep soon. With all his clothes on, he woke up and saw that he was in an uncomfortable position on his bed, half of his body was tangled amongst the heavy furs and Jon's head was on his shoulder, even in a worse position than Aegon's himself.

His head throbbed with pain and his eyes burned in the pale morning light. It was still too soon to get up, so Aegon gently propped Jon's body against his own, so at least his brother would feel no pain. Stirring, Jon let Aegon help him, but thankfully he did not wake. Aegon closed his eyes after that, willing to stop his own agonizing headache. He drifted to sleep once more.

An hour or two later, he woke up with a start, feeling a sharp pain in his jaw. He opened his eyes to see that Jon was looking at him guiltily, "Sorry, I didn't see you." Jon offered as he helped Aegon get up.

He had hit his jaw in his first-second panic of waking up in another bed. Thankfully the pain faded soon, leaving no trace behind. But Jon kept apologizing. "It's nothing, I'm serious." Aegon assured him.

Jyke, his squire, burst into the room a few seconds later, shocked by their groggy appearance. "My Prince, I'm sorry." He instantly said, his eyes hovering between Jon and Aegon.

Jon's hair was a tangled mess of black curls and he was struggling to put on his boots which turned out to be Aegon's ones. Aegon himself was not much better, he kept brushing off his silver hair out of his eyes and was trying to get rid of his sweaty jerkin.

"Where were you last night?" He demanded his squire.

Jyke shrunk back immediately, "I'm sorry, Prince Aegon... I... I got drunk and..."

Aegon could not blame him, he had been drunk as well. "Alright, help us dress now." He said, not unkindly.

After finally changing their clothes and having a light breakfast, Aegon and Jon left to find Nym. She was not in her assigned bedchambers, so they decided that she had been either forced to get along with the rest of Winterfell ladies or she had gotten too drunk last night to get herself to her room.

The sound of swords clashing against each other tempted them to go for the training yard. Seeing Jon's hand go to the pommel of his sword, Aegon frowned instantly, "You should not."

Jon looked up, "I'm fossilizing, Aeg. Don't worry, I'll keep it light."

They argued all the way to the training yard, but Jon would not give up. Aegon opened his mouth for one final try but he did not close it again. In front of them was Nym, taking arms against Oswell Whent.

The scene was something normal in King's Landing, but the place and the timing looked odd now. The castle was still asleep, everyone had been in their cups during the feast and would not wake up so early.

"Hey there," Nym stopped to greet them with a grin.

Oswell turned to them as well, "Had a hangover, huh?" He asked with a smirk.

"Something of sorts." Aegon said. "Can I have a round, too? I need to get rid of this damn headache."

Oswell grinned, "I can't promise I won't double it."

But Aegon accepted the challenge anyway and he lost in a blink. "I told you so." Oswell quipped.

The ever arrogant knight was a good friend of theirs, both Aegon and Jon had squired for him for some months when they were barely eight. When not too cocky, he was a good companion to have, like a big brother.

Resigning, Aegon stepped away from the field. "I'm too dizzy." He complained.

"Well then, get away now, brother. Let me have a turn." Jon brushed past him.

"No!" All three of them chorused.

Jon eyed them one by one, "I'm fine! If you don't let me have a sword in my hands, I will one day end up like Pycelle." He frowned.

The three of them did not succeed in declining his request. Finally Oswell sighed and gave up, "I'll go easy on you."

Nym and Aegon watched with scornful and worried expression as Jon was forced to fight with tourney swords. However, he fought well enough, there was no sign of his weakness that would make him numb. He was acting like he was alright and he did not have that terrifying wound under his garments.

He did not manage to win, though, but he fought incredibly. By the end of the fight, Oswell was nearly drained of energy. As soon as Jon put back the sword into its place, all that glowing energy left him, and he groaned with pain.

Aegon rushed to his side, taking him before he could fall to the hard ground. Jon tried to break free of his arms, but Aegon had more power. "You are not going anywhere." He said to his little brother.

"I'm alright, Aeg. It was just a wave of dizziness, no more." Jon said, but his voice betrayed him.

Nym was about to scoff him for his folly but the arrival of Ser Rodrick Cassel along with Robb and Theon stopped her. They all bowed at the sight of the royal children, but straightened up with Aegon's casual wave.

Then the normal greetings were exchanged, half of them directed at Jon who was once again leaning against Aegon.

His brother had been getting better when they had first left the Red Keep, but long days and weeks of riding atop a horse had stopped the healing process, and only made his condition worse. No matter how much they begged him, he would not accept to ride in a cart or anything less stiff. And now he was trying to start training once more. Jon could be as stubborn as a hedgehog at times.

With the arrival of Robb, three of the direwolves padded towards them. Two of them were Jon and Nym's newly gifted ones. The two were albino with eyes as red as dragon's eyes. Aegon saw it fit for his siblings, but he could not help but to wish for one. He was ready to give everything but to be a Stark instead of a Targaryen.

His siblings had even named the direwolves last day, Jon's wolf was aptly named Ghost. Whereas Nym had named hers Shadow. Aegon saw no relations between the white direwolf and dark shadows, but he had not said anything.

Robb challenged Aegon to a fight and he accepted instantly. That marked his second defeat that day and he finally decided that it was not wise to accept Theon's challenge as well. "It appears I'm way too light-headed to even win from Rickon," Aegon grinned, "But I can recommend you my sister."

Theon took that as a jest and laughed, "I'm sure Princess Visenya prefers to be with Sansa rather than here." He grinned at Nym.

Nym smirked impishly. Aegon pitied Theon at that moment, he did not know what he had gotten himself into. Even Jon smirked from Aegon's side.

"Why, I would like to test myself in fighting skills. I accept your challenge, Theon." Nym said, "You prefer tourney swords or live steel?"

Theon thought she was joking, but he replied anyways, "Tourney swords, it won't do if I hurt a lady."

As they picked up their weapons, Nym smiled, "Oh, please fight me as if I'm a boy."

Neither Robb, Theon nor Ser Rodrick took any of those for real. So Oswell warned Theon, "Do as she says or you'll regret it very soon."

Theon gave a mock frown to the Kingsguard and finally started the match. It was rather a quick victory that Nym gained, leaving the northerners agape at the scene.

It was Ser Rodrick who broke the silence with a booming laugh, "You remind me of your mother, princess. She tended to come here from time to time and beat her brothers to a bloody pulp before leaving."

Everyone laughed at that. "I can say that Nym has done it dozens of times with us." Jon smiled.

They continued their matches but Aegon soon left his siblings alone, going to explore the castle. On his way, he ran into Sansa Stark, clad in furs and a blue silk dress. Her fiery auburn hair was braided in a northern style and her eyes matched the blue of her dress.

"Prince Aegon," she sank into a curtsy.

Aegon in turn bent to kiss her knuckles courteously, "Lady Sansa, I must insist that you call me Aegon."

She smiled shyly, "Only if you call me Sansa."

Aegon nodded, "Would you please show me the the godswood? My mother says it's truly beautiful."

"It would be a pleasure, Aegon." Sansa put her hand into his offered arm. "I hope you are enjoying Winterfell." She said as they went into the the godswood.

"It's truly a magnificent castle. Even older than Red Keep and it has stunned me." Aegon said truthfully.

Sansa broke into a smile, "I'm happy to hear so."

Aegon thought on what to say next, he had little experience with northern girls, except for his sister. "I hope our visit here has not brought you much troubles, though I'm afraid it has."

"Oh, no, no," Sansa dismissed the matter instantly, "It's a great honor to have you here, the royal family in the North." The last part was said in a dreamy manner.

Aegon almost laughed at how naïve and sweet she was, the exact opposite of his sister. He shook that thought away, Nym and Sansa were simply different type of girls. He did not want his feelings for Nym lead him to misjudge Sansa. "Well, it's actually our mother's homelands, it is not such a big event." He said softly, trying not to ruin her expectations.

She showed her around the the godswood in silence. Their small tour ended by running into Kathrine and Lady Rowan, one of his mother's ladies-in-waiting.

Aegon left Sansa alone with the two ladies, so they could tell her of the wonders of the court.

He found his mother awaiting him in his bedchamber. Suddenly he got anxious, what had he done? Was she there to scowl him for drinking too much? Had something happened to Jon?

"Aegon," She got up and smiled at him kindly, calming his racing heart. "I was waiting for you." She instructed him to sit at the small table in the corner of his room and she took the other seat. "How was your day?"

"Good enough, I had a walk with Sansa and two unsuccessful matches with Ser Oswell and Robb." Aegon did not mention the hangover and how he and Jon had fallen asleep last night.

"No need to worry over the last part, I could barely get up today, let alone handling a sword." Lyanna gave him a knowing smile. "Anyway, I need to talk to you."

"Is something amiss?" Aegon got worried once more.

"No, actually I need your help to fix something. This whole journey has a purpose which I wish to achieve. I want to make Rhaegar open those damned eyes of his and come back to his senses." She said sternly.

Aegon was intent, and even proud that his mother was looking forward to his help in that matter. "How can I help?"

"He likes you, at least more than Jon. Use it to gain his trust, the way Damon did. As long as we're here, surrounded by my brother's men, he cannot harm us even if he finds out. Meanwhile, we need to get him into some sentiments, getting to feel something about his crimes other than being proud of them." She said, at length.

"Like making him feel guilty?"

"Yes, we have about a moon's turn or two. I made him agree to stay here for a while." Lyanna said and Aegon nodded. "And, one more thing, Aegon. I have to thank you for the way you've been supporting Jon. I really appreciate it."

Aegon felt even more proud, but he had done that out of his love for his brother and nothing more. "It wasn't anything, really. If I had known what he wanted to do, I would've volunteered myself."

"Now don't make me angry the way he did. Even thinking of such idiocy is forbidden!" Lyanna warned him, not unkindly. "But speaking of which, how is he doing? I have been too busy these days that I hadn't pay enough attention to him."

"He insists that he's better and he will be, only if he agrees to calm down. Today he forced us to let him have a match with Oswell and he exhausted himself on the act."

"A match with Oswell Whent?" Lyanna asked with a horrified tone, "Is he alright now?"

"I suppose he's better than the days during the journey, but still he's not well. Fortunately Oswell went easy on him." Aegon felt like he was being counselled by his mother and a childish joy filled him.

"I will see to him, if he keeps doing these sort of things, he will never give the chance for himself to heal." Lyanna said, "But anyhow, thank you Aegon." She smiled before taking her leave. The scent of fresh winter roses was left in her wake. The blue roses of the North had given her courage and spirit to continue her war to gain back her husband. Aegon smiled hopefully.

 _ **Damon:**_

If not for his vampire abilities of resisting getting drunk, Damon would have been in a terrible hangover just like the rest of the castle. He had feasted on liquor and a poor man's blood from Winter Town the night before and he was drunk on blood.

He enjoyed a fitful sleep and woke up at about nine O' clock, or when he thought it was nine, there was no clock or watch in Westeros.

He went to the courtyard afterwards, finding a group of boys and knights in the training yard, as expected, Nymeria was also present, locked in a battle with a clumsy young boy. A very familiar young boy, even from the back he looked like someone Damon knew, but he did not know who. As he turned, Damon got his answer, it was his own student, Jeremy Gilbert. How the fuck had he ended up there?

He was soon disarmed by Nymeria and was about to find another one to challenge when his eyes met Damon's. Within a moment, he was in front of Damon.

"You're here, too!" He exclaimed.

"I am, under the alias of Damon Salvatore." Damon confirmed. "You're alone or you have company?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Damon rolled his eyes, "I woke up in this strange time with Kathrine by my side. What about you?"

"Kathrine? Kathrine Pierce?" Jeremy was shocked.

"Do you know any other _Kathrines_? Yes, I know, she's alive, or so it seems." Damon replied. "Now, are you alone?"

"No, Bonnie's here, too." Jeremy finally answered.

"Bonnie? Oh good, maybe she can explain which part of the spell went wrong that we woke up in the middle of this hell." Damon growled.

"She doesn't know, either." Jeremy defended his girlfriend.

"Fine, fine, forget it." Damon gave up. "Just say hello for me." He said before walking away.

They were not alone, at least. There was even a chance that all those others were scattered across Westeros. The thought of seeing Elena again made Damon smile.

"Damon," Jeremy called from behind, causing him to stop and turn to the boy.

"What now?" He asked.

Jeremy got closer, "Why does Prince Aegon look like Klaus?"

"I don't know, but all I know is that he isn't Klaus. That's all that matters." Damon shrugged, he had long ago given up on finding an answer to that question.

Inside the Main Keep, he came across Kathrine. She practically dragged him into her room.

Damon gave her the news of Jeremy and Bonnie's presence and she rolled her eyes in reply, "Now we're supposed to babysit them?" She asked.

"I'm _not_ doing it anyway." Damon shook his head. "But look, we need to do something about Rhaegar."

Just the last evening, Lyanna had personally asked him to join her for a walk. Away from eavesdropper and in the godswood, she had told him of her intention to 'change' Rhaegar while they were in the North. Damon had promised to help, but he saw no way of doing it. He could keep Rhaegar at bay, but changing him was an entirely different matter. He was no psychologist, which was what Rhaegar actually needed.

"So you want help." Kathrine said after he explained the situation.

"Yes," Damon replied, stiffly.

"We need to use Jon in that matter, then." Kathrine started, and she went on as she saw the little frown on his face, "He's the one that Rhaegar hates most and the one that he should feel most guilty about. It's just like turning back a vampire's humanity on."

Considering Stefan's _reaper_ nature, Damon was an expert in designing plans for that sort of things. "He needs to die, then." He decided.

Kathrine immediately scowled him, "You'll do no such thing. I was hoping for some _softer_ ideas."

"Fine, he needs to go on the brink of death." Damon offered with a brash smile.

"Damon Salvatore," Kathrine warned him, "If anything bad happens to Jon, I will skin you myself."

"Don't worry, your one true love isn't going to die." He grinned. Kathrine was obviously in love with Jon.

"What's your big plan, then?" She demanded.

"What sorts of poison can be found in this weird timeline?" Damon asked.

They had already tested a few, when they planned to poison Rhaegar. However, none of them suited Damon's intentions. He wanted something slow-working which did not shout it was poison. Jon was already weak enough and any change for worse in his state would be related to his wound. It was a good, though, because Damon wanted Rhaegar to believe he was dying of those fatal injuries.

All they needed to do was to find the right poison and get Jon to spend even more time doing what he was forbidden to do, things like riding, sword fighting and such.

Damon smirked, he was born to be an assassin, killing people without them knowing where the blow had come from. Be it taking out their hearts or secretly poisoning them. Some more influence and he would be Master of Murders in Rhaegar's council, a new title invented by Damon himself. He was already very close to become a knight or even a lord and member of the Small Council. Even if he killed Jon openly, he would be praised by Rhaegar. The man was _that_ mad to do that.

Damon and Kathrine both went to library, doing the tiresome act of researching the books. He dearly missed internet, where he could goggle things and get whatever information he wanted in a matter of seconds. All of the books were hand-written and yellow paged, old and new were all dusty.

The library was empty, though a maester came in once to grab a book, but he left soon. It was a good thing, they did not want anyone sneaking on them and asking questions about why were they reading _the Poisons of the East_ , it would just be too suspicious.

Why could they not simply get some Thallium or Arsenic in those times? Instead they had those complex poison names that sounded more like names of foods or other things. _Widow's Blood? Seriously?_ Damon mused.

"Look here," Kathrine said, pushing a book towards him.

This one was relatively newer than the other ones and looked like an encyclopedia of poisons. Kathrine pointed to a part that was titled Tears of Lys. It had some illustrations but what caught Damon's attention was the effects. They had just found the Thallium of the medieval times. No maester could tell whether the victim was actually poisoned or had simply fallen ill. In Jon's case, no one would even suspect that he was not actually ill.

The next step was finding the poison, they could not just order it in old Westerosi version of Amazon and expect it to arrive in a day. It was a rare poison, only imported from Lys. So Kathrine decided to send someone, maybe a sellsword, to White Harbour. There, their messenger would obtain the poison in secret and bring it back north. It would take time, at least three weeks, but Lyanna had told him that they had all the time in the world, Rhaegar was easy to persuade. Although the queen had not meant that they had time to poison her son, but she looked willing to give anything to gain her husband back on her side. Besides, Jon was not actually going to die, the poison would be carefully measured and there was always two willing vampires to give him their blood.

When Damon and Kathrine finally left the library, it was already getting dark. Kathrine went to find the right sellsword and seduce him with her own charm and some gold. It would not matter anyways, for they would get rid of the fool as soon as he came back with the poison.

Damon, in turn, left for Rhaegar's temporary solar. He had to work on him, as well. But as he got closer, the sounds of yet another heated argument could be heard. Although it was not Lyanna who was arguing the king. The usually calm voice of Arthur Dayne was laced with anger, though he kept it quiet. The argument was low, but of course Damon could hear it without even being obvious about it.

"That prophecy has invaded your mind, your grace." Arthur was saying.

"You're not the one to tell me what things I should put my mind to, Dayne." Rhaegar barked.

"My duty is protect you, your grace, and I see it my job to warn you against these _destructive_ thoughts." Arthur tried to stay calm.

"Your duty is to shut your mouth and just protect me. I don't need your words, Dayne."

"Write to Maester Aemon, he will agree with me, Rhaegar." His tone changed into a friendlier one.

But it made Rhaegar even more furious, "I'm your king!" He bellowed. "And I order you to get out of my sight."

It took a minute before Arthur finally stomped out of the solar. Damon started walking to the solar from where he was at the end of the hallway. Arthur gave him a venomous look as he brushed past him. No wonder, he did not know that Damon was working with the royal family instead of Rhaegar.

He calmly went and knocked the door. It took a while before the answer came, "Come in." Rhaegar's voice was still angry.

"Your grace," Damon entered with a bow, "I hope that I had not interrupted you in a bad time."

"No, sit down, Salvatore." Rhaegar motioned for a seat in front of his desk, "I had things to tell you."

"Yes, your grace?" Damon could not second guess what the king wanted from him.

"For your services during the recent moons, I thought of rewarding you." Damon now knew where it was going, a knighthood or lordship. "I doubt you're a knight, are you?" Rhaegar asked.

"No, your grace." Damon answered briefly.

"Then from now on, you shall be Ser Damon of house Salvatore. An advisor in my council." Rhaegar announced.

Damon grinned with gratefulness, "I'm the most honored, your grace."

The king regarded him with a smile, one that Damon had never seen him with before. He had seen him smirk, or laugh mercilessly, but never smile. He noted that as a small victory against the king.

"Now I think is the time for thinking of your sigil and proper house words. It's not going to be easy." Rhaegar offered with a smirk. _Alright, he won again_ , Damon admitted inwardly.

He grinned outwardly, "That would take some time, I'm afraid." He replied.

"But you don't need to wait for your sigil to attend the council meetings here." Rhaegar said. He held his own very Small Councils in the North. He had already thrown some during their journey, where Lyanna, Ser Gerold, Renly Baratheon and now Damon would be present.

That night he celebrated that victory with yet another poor folk from Winter Town. But due to limits and privacy matters, he and Kathrine shared the blood, but it still tasted good enough.

The next day, he started his job at indirectly tempting Jon to do some real activities. He had Jon challenge him in the privacy of his own rooms while the prince thought it was his own exclusive idea. Damon protested all the way, saying that taking private sword fighting sessions would make everyone angry and Jon would hurt himself as well. But Jon humorlessly stated that it was a command.

Damon made sure that he was not too exhausted, wanting to look like he meant well. None of them broke as much as a sweat by the end of the short session, and Damon even let Jon win.

Just as they finished and got rid of the evidences, Aegon burst into the room. "Oh, I thought you were alone." He said as he saw Damon.

"I can leave then." Damon offered but luckily his offer was answered with a scowl from both princes and thus he stayed.

Aegon examined Jon from head to toe with his observing eyes, after he found nothing wrong with his younger brother, he let go of himself onto a chair. "We're staying here for a while." He announced.

Jon broke into a rare smile, "That's good indeed. How did the king agree with Mother?"

"Don't know, but let's enjoy it." Aegon shrugged. Damon wondered if he knew of his mother's plans. It was like Lyanna to tell him of her plans.

"Are you feeling better?" Aegon asked Jon. It was at least the hundredth time that Damon heard this cliché conversation, and he was not with the princes half of the times.

"I'm fine," Jon replied, frustrated, "You don't have to ask it like every minute, Aeg. You're even worse than Edric."

Aegon grinned at that, "At least you have a capable squire, brother. Jyke, well, you know how he is." Jyke Buckler was Aegon's squire sent to him from Stormlands and Aegon was never pleased with him, even though the boy tried his best.

"Well, I suppose being Ser Arthur's nephew helps." Jon smiled.

"Why can't I have, say Ser Barristan's nephew as my squire? Life must have been simpler that way." Aegon mocked a frown.

"There, there, Aegon. You can hand me this Buckler squire of yours and find another one if it's that bad." Damon offered, as a discreet way to announce his new rank.

"You're not a knight, not yet." Aegon frowned with confusion.

"Oh, your father made me a knight last night. I'm now _Ser_ Damon Salvatore." Damon grinned.

"Congratulations, _Ser_ Damon." Jon grinned as well. Aegon clapped him on the back as an act of applauding him.

"And I'll be needing your help for sigil and words. I can't choose between a skull, a raven and a chalice of blood." He said frankly.

"Are you sure you aren't a Dothraki?" Aegon raised a brow.

Damon only grinned in response, "I want it to be scary."

"Then I guess a chalice of blood is the best option. Anyways the raven would make you look like a Night's Watch member or some maester from Old Town." Aegon decided.

Secretly, Damon liked the raven idea, but Aegon's words made sense. "And the house words? _Scary_ , please."

"I don't know. Your blood is ours, maybe?" Jon shrugged.

Damon could laugh at the irony of that. Yes, their blood was his, he was a vampire after all. "Good idea."

"And you should defiantly set for red and black, besides, Father will love it." Aegon suggested.

"Noting it, thanks." Damon grinned. Finding house words and all was simple for the princes, they should have had an agency. _Targaryen House Customization Service_ , Damon mused with a smirk.

He almost felt bad for attempting to poison Jon, but _almost_. He shrugged that feeling away, he was just helping them that way, and it was for everybody's best.


	9. Being Targaryen 101

**Chapter Nine: Being Targaryen 101**

 **Summary:** Nym goes for a ride and fulfills her role as a Targaryen. Sansa tries to be friendly.

 _ **Nymeria:**_

Nym accepted Robb's offer for a ride outside Winterfell's walls. It had been a week since they had arrived and Nym had not left the place even once, she needed to ride in the fresh and cold air of the North.

Although her father's guards would not leave her alone, Ser Barristan insisted to accompany her in the ride. So the trio left the Winterfell's gates for the Wolfswood. Shadow and Grey Wind padded behind them, enjoying their extended freedom.

"Do you enjoy riding?" Robb asked from her right side.

Nym looked at him, "Are you joking? Of course I do! I love it more than anything." She laughed.

"For one small moment I thought you were going to say no." Robb grinned.

"Never."

Ser Barristan beamed from her left, "The Princess is half-horse herself, if I dare say."

"That's a Stark feature, Ser Barristan." Robb implied, grinning.

They all laughed at that. It was a pleasant ride until suddenly the sky turned dark grey and heavy rain poured on them. Nym liked to stay and enjoy it but Robb warned her against it, "It gets very cold and you might catch a chill. It's different from the south here."

Despite her willingness to ride under the rain, Ser Barristan and Robb made her go with them, back to the warmth of the castle. When she got to her chamber, Robb's words proved true. She was felt like freezing, but she had enjoyed the ride anyway.

Once in the castle, she did not hesitate and almost ran to her chambers, Ser Barristan at her tail. Even though he was soaked wet, he refused to leave her side until she saw the safety of her room. "It's ludicrous, who would want to harm me especially within these walls?" She protested.

"No one, Princess, but it is still unsafe." Ser Barristan replied solemnly. She only rolled her eyes at that.

Luckily, when she finally got to her room, he closed the door behind her and left. She hear his footsteps ring through the gallery outside. It was irritating, having a shadow by her side all the time, though having _Shadow_ was different. Back in King's Landing, there had been guards and such, but since they had come to Winterfell, there was always a member of Kingsguard at her wake. When there was no Kingsguard, it would be Ser Martyn, the lord commander of the Black Cloaks himself and not one of his men.

Nym had her suspicions that her father was behind this. He was skeptical about the Starks and he did not try to hide it. It was yet another senseless thing. For his own wife was a Stark, sister to the current lord of Winterfell. But this did not seem to matter much to Rhaegar, he was cynic all the same. _A distrustful mad man,_ she bitterly thought, _who is my father._

She was getting out of her wet clothes when Aegon came in. She had difficulties with untying the laces of her riding dress and Lyla was nowhere to be found. Aegon saw her problem and came forward to help her.

"You're as wet as a trout." He quipped.

Nym laughed, "Careful not to say that in front of Aunt Cat."

"I won't. Anyway, I was going to ask you for a favor." He got serious.

"What favor?"

"I'm going to take Sansa on a ride on the morrow," his voice was emotionless, like he was doing it out of duty, "And no doubt Jon will be using the chance to do something _harmful_. So, can you watch over him?" He sounded nervous.

Nym felt relieved, she was almost afraid of what Aegon would have asked her, watching Jon was something that she would gladly do. "Alright, don't worry."

Aegon finished untying the last knot and let her dress fall to the ground. Her damp hair dripped water to the stone floor and she felt cold. The hearth was empty and without her warm cloak she felt like freezing. She shivered.

A warm body pressed to hers, sending a pleasant wave of heat into her veins. Aegon threw his hands around her from behind and buried his head into her hair. "I've missed this." He murmured.

Nym reached for his waist and held to him, "It's been so long." She muttered. At that, Aegon bent to kiss her neck passionately. Then he turned her around so that she could see him. He cupped her face in his hands and put his lips on hers. At first it was just a light kiss on the lips, but Nym parted her lips and with her teeth, she bit Aegon. The act made him also open his mouth. He was hot and full of fire and passion. His body against her own naked one sent waves of pleasure down her spine.

Then, all of a sudden a knock on the door broke the trance and before they could even part each other, Kathrine had entered the room, behind her was Lyla.

Without a word, Aegon let go of her and she pulled away instantly, feeling heat build in her cheeks. "I'd better be off, sister." He said with a faint but apologetic smile.

The other two girls acted as if nothing had happened. "We heard that you've come back and considering the shower outside we thought you might need some help." Kathrine said as she picked Nym's robe from her closet and came to hand it to her.

"I just need a hot bath and a fire in the hearth." Nym replied, still blushing. Lyla nodded and went to fetch water.

In a few minutes, she was enjoying the hot water that took away the last remnants of cold from her body. Lyla scrubbed her so hard that her skin turned pink and then perfumed her with her favorite scent, winter roses.

Once done, she asked them to leave her so she could enjoy her bath some more time. Though it was not long before Lyla came in once more.

"The Queen has asked you to dine with her, princess." She said.

She sighed and got up from the hot water she was so enjoying. "Of course," she replied, "Help me dress."

Once she was safely dressed in a woolen dark grey dress –the color of house Stark- and her hair was braided, she left her chambers. Outside, she found Aegon waiting for her, a subtle smile tugging on his lips, playfully challenging her. She so wanted to kiss him right there and then, but they were not in the confidentiality of her chambers anymore, and anyone could see them. Besides, it appeared that her room was not so private after all, Kathrine and Lyla had discovered them not an hour ago. In its stead, she locked her arm in his and they went to Lyanna's chambers.

Ser Arys stood guard without. As they entered their mother's chambers, they saw that Jon was already there, in a conversation with Lyanna. They looked up at them when they came in, "Good evening, dear ones." Lyanna smiled.

They settled at the table and started talking. "You were nowhere to be found this afternoon." Her mother said to her.

"Yes, I went riding with Robb. Though we came back early." Nym answered.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Lyanna asked. For one second Nym thought that she would forbid it, but then, "I would've come with you. I miss Wolfswood." She smiled playfully at the look of relief on Nym's face.

Nym then faced her twin, "How are you feeling?"

Jon hesitated before answering, clearly trying not to frown at her. "Quite well, honestly." He replied.

Ghost was curled in front of the fireplace, enjoying its warmth. Jon gave him a look and then threw him a good portion of his meat. Ghost lunged at it as if it was some living prey. Nym smiled at her brother, "At least he won't be hungry."

Jon had not eaten much, "I'm not hungry." He replied sternly. Nym did not persist.

The rest of the night was spent relatively calm, and so did the next week. Nym enjoyed more riding sessions with Robb and sometimes her mother would also join them. Once or twice Jon came as well, despite all the willpower that Lyanna had to stop him. Even when he came, Lyanna would watch over him carefully, not letting him pick up speed.

"Mother, I'm not five anymore." He had once complained.

Lyanna had not failed to answer, "I doubt it, Jon. Why else would you have wanted to fight Bracken?"

Anyhow, riding through Wolfswood was pleasant and gave Nym a sense of freedom. Robb was also a very fine companion, he would even stop in the clearings to spar with Nym. All the time, Ser Barristan watching them with bemused smiles. He would sometimes give them pieces of advice.

Robb, Grey Wind and Shadow had become her constant companions. While Aegon spent his time with Sansa, Jon and occasionally with their father, Nym would have good times with her eldest cousin. Though she still enjoyed Kathrine and Arya's presence from time to time.

Arya was just like her and Lyanna, a she-wolf with a wild spirit. Nym had once found her handling a wooden sword and sticking it into a tree like it was some real opponent. She had then went forward and offered her some words of wisdom of how to handle the heavy wooden practice sword.

That day, she was invited to spend the day with Sansa and her ladies in a room. Due to the heavy rain outside, she had nothing else to do, so she accepted.

Sansa was surrounded by two girls, one about her age and one younger. Arya and her friend were there as well. Nym had asked Kathrine to come with her and help her with handling a needle properly for she had no experience.

There was a septa who checked the girls' embroideries by the name of Septa Mordane. She sank into a curtsy as Nym entered the room, "Princess Visenya."

Everyone followed her suit and curtsied, except for Arya. She ran to her cousin with a wide grin, "Nym!" It earned her a well-concealed scowl from her septa and some murderous glances from Sansa and her friends.

"Hello there, Arya." Nym smiled at her before thanking the rest of them for inviting her.

"It's a pleasure to have you here, Princess." Sansa smiled prettily, "I've heard that your sewing skills are incredible." She said genuinely.

Nym suppressed a laugh, "I'm afraid they are not." She did not add that she barely knew which end of the needle to use, it would do her no good.

So they sat next to Arya as Sansa introduced the ladies in the room. Jeyne Poole was the giggling older girl by her side and Beth Cassel was the younger one, daughter of Ser Rodrick. "Your father is an incredible man, Lady Beth." Nym offered.

The girl blushed immediately, at a loss of words and stuttered a 'thank you'. The beautiful dark-skinned lady who sat by Arya's side was introduced as Bonnie Bennett. She looked less ladylike than Sansa and her friends and more like Arya herself.

As soon as she started, she stabbed her finger with the needle, but made no sound. She did not want to draw attentions to herself. Next to her, Arya grinned wickedly, she was aware of Nym's skills and even her little cousin was better than her with needle.

She hopelessly tried to thread her needle into the piece of cloth, stabbing herself half a dozen times before giving up. Septa Mordane was admiring Sansa's needle work and then she turned to her, ready to bombard her with compliments. But as she saw her bloody fingers and plain cloth, she frowned. "Oh dear, it's not good. You handle your needle as if it's a sword, Princess." She sighed.

At that, Arya burst into laughter next to her and Nym fixated her with a glower. However Arya did not stop laughing.

Sansa scoffed at her sister, "Arya, it's not polite."

Kathrine was giggling as well and Nym finally broke into an apologetic smile. She looked at Septa Mordane, "I must admit it's true." She said.

Sansa looked at her with confusion, as did everyone else, save for Arya and Kathrine, who were still laughing.

"I do have more practice with swords rather than needles." She said, only to see them get even more confused. No one asked anything, though. Septa Mordane spent the next hour trying to help her, and she managed to do a single clumsy stitch of her own.

Sansa and her friends were giggling and talking in hushed tones all while, and when Nym glanced at them with a questioning face, they all fell silent and blushed. It was Jeyne who spoke up, "Sansa was saying how glad she is to have your brother by her side, Princess Visenya."

Nym's expression darkened at the way Jeyne said that. Beside her, Sansa blushed and glowered at her friend. Nym could not help but to think that they knew something. Why else would Jeyne be so _smug_?

She pulled a forced smile to her lips, "I'm sure that Aegon feels the same, too." Maybe that was just it, Aegon had gone too far in playing with poor Sansa's emotions. Nym hoped for everyone's sake that she would not do something foolish, or she had to kill Aegon herself.

"I hear that Prince Aegon is not yet betrothed." Little Beth blurted out, getting an elbow on her side from Sansa and a cold look from Jeyne. Even Septa Mordane looked horrified.

Nym certainly needed to talk with her older brother, Sansa was a respectful lady of house Stark and she should not be dishonored in such way. Nym did not know what to say. Thankfully, Kathrine came to her rescue, "I'm sure that his grace has some open options for that matter, though he does not share them with us."

Nym glanced at her with gratitude. Kathrine had seen them that night but she had not said a word of it. Kathrine gave her the faintest of nods before turning back to Sansa again, "Though I'm sure it is yet too soon to decide, Prince Aegon does not wish to marry this soon."

It was added to remind Sansa that she should not believe whatever he had promised her. Sansa flinched at that, but said not a word.

The rest of the session was spent in silence, a heavy tension thickened the air. The sound of the storm outside did not help, either.

Just before the midday meal, Nym was finally released from that tormenting room. She instantly went after Aegon. He was in his chamber, with Robb, Theon, Jon and even Damon and Jeremy Gilbert. They were having fun, in contrast to what Nym and her cousin had shared during the last hours.

Realizing that there was no way she could speak with Aegon in private, she joined their fun. "How was your sewing lessons, sister?" Aegon asked her.

"Disastrous." Nym simply replied.

"Don't worry, you can always join us in the training yard. Well, unless it is drowning in rainwater like now." Theon grinned.

"That's my point." She said, "But whatever happens, I will _never ever_ hold a needle again." That made everyone laugh, even herself.

Three wet balls of fur, who were Shadow, Grey Wind and Ghost were playing with each other in one corner of the already-crowded room. She found a place to sit on Aegon's bed, next to Jon. From up close, her brother looked pale and his eyes were red from lack of sleeping. He had been getting better during the past two weeks, since they had arrived at Winterfell, and this sudden change worried Nym. However, she did not say a word, afraid that he might just kill her for asking the question once more.

Robb was standing to her left, leaning to the bed post. He grinned as he caught her looking at him but said nothing.

Theon, Damon and Aegon were trying to convince each other about the best sort of weapon. Aegon elected spears and occasionally longswords, while Damon was a fan of daggers and shortsword and Theon supported bows no matter what.

"You can't shoot your enemy when they're just a feet away from you with a bow." Aegon argued.

"And you can do it with a spear?" Damon smirked.

Aegon had no answer for that, "But it's still better than arrows."

"You can use the arrow head to kill them. It should work." Robb offered teasingly.

"That way a _kitchen knife_ will work flawlessly as well." Jeremy replied.

"Doesn't matter, I'll still prefer my bow." Theon said firmly.

"And how good are you with it? Can you shoot something far away?" Aegon asked, curious.

"May I show you? I just need to get my bow." Theon accepted the challenge.

He went to get his bow as he had said and left Aegon stunned. Robb grinned, "You shouldn't have done that, now he expects you to cut a _tree_ in half with a longsword."

"You're in trouble, brother." Jon said sympathetically.


	10. To Kill a Dragon Princess

**Chapter Ten: To Kill a Dragon Princess**

 **Summary:** Sansa tries hard to gain the attention of a certain prince, but what she gets is a broken one. Aegon tries to brighten everybody's mood.

 _ **Sansa:**_

Sansa scowled at Kathrine Pierce's reply but said nothing. Was this companion of the princess saying that out of being jealous at her? Aegon was the most handsome man she had ever seen and she was sure it had nothing to do with her having been grown up in the North, far from the court.

Aegon had been nice and caring about her, taking her on long walks around the godswood or even riding outside Winterfell's walls. Sansa enjoyed the times she shared with the handsome prince. He looked like he had just come out of a song, gallant and courtly, her own Dragonknight. And now this Lady Kathrine was trying to ruin it.

But then she saw the look that the princess gave her lady-in-waiting, it was one of appreciation. Why would she be thankful at the words Kathrine had just said? Sansa suppressed another scowl. It was no behavior suitable for a princess. But then again, Visenya was a princess only in name, inside she was as wild as Arya. She spent half of her time in the training yard with the boys and the other half riding into Wolfswood with Robb, with some breaks which she spent them with her brothers.

Sansa had heard some rumors, but she was not sure if they were true. As far as she knew, Jeyne had heard them from a serving maid who had in turn heard them from a washerwoman and she had heard that from another girl, the list went on and with each person made the rumor even less valid. But what else would that look that Visenya gave her friend mean? Besides, Targaryens were never hesitant of incestuous relationships, Visenya would be no exception.

Even though, Sansa was sure that Aegon would never do that, she was just _sure_ of it. Whatever the princess thought of her brother was probably wrong.

The session ended and everyone left the heavy tension of the room. As soon as they were out of Visenya and her lady's earshot, they begun talking. Jeyne was the first to offer her hatred towards Kathrine, "How can she be so rude? Even the presence of her princess did not stop her."

When Sansa did not reply, Jeyne went on, "Who does she thinks she is? She can never hope to marry the crown prince with her lowly status. I've never even heard of house Pierce, if it even exists at all."

Sansa let her friends go on, she said not a word about her own thoughts to them. She did not want to look like a petty girl who was seeking the royal family's attention.

That afternoon, after the midday meal, Aegon came to her. He came to her room, seeking her there. She welcomed him with a pleasant smile, "Good afternoon, Prince Aegon."

"Lady Sansa," Aegon bent down to kiss her hand which made Sansa blush, like it did every time. "I believe I had promised you a walk yesterday, but unfortunately I was busy."

"It's alright, you should not abandon your duties for me, my prince." Sansa offered.

Aegon offered her his arm and she crooked hers into his. "Oh, but I would do that gladly." He beamed down at her as he led her through the corridors. But they did not go outside.

"I thought we were going for a walk." Sansa said, confusion clear in her voice.

"I'm afraid it's not possible after that rain just this morning. I thought we could enjoy the warmth of my chambers." He said as he finally came upon a door which opened to his bedchambers.

Inside was warm and cozy, a fire burned in the fireplace and cast long shadows to the walls. There was a cask of wine settled on a small table in the corner of the room, accompanied by two goblets. The most welcome sight was the fresh lemon cakes that were placed next to the wine. Aegon caught her looking at the cake, "You had once mentioned you loved lemon cakes. There was some we had brought from south, and it seemed like a nice idea to give them to the cooks to make these cakes."

"You're so kind," Sansa gasped with delight.

Aegon personally pulled away a chair for her and when she sat, he pushed the chair back to the table. He then took the seat in front of her, slicing a portion of the hot lemon cakes for her. He did not start eating until he had poured her a cup of wine as well, "Don't worry, it's watered down Arbor Gold." He assured her as she looked skeptically at her goblet.

They ate their cakes in silence, enjoying the meal and each other's company. When Sansa finally started sipping at her wine, Aegon started talking. "Tell me more about here." He said.

"I'm sure that it's boring for you, it's not like the court at all." Sansa replied, eager to get him to talk about King's Landing.

"That is enough for me to want to get to know it." Aegon said cryptically.

"Well, here is almost always cold. Even in summers, and as Father says it's now late summer." Sansa started.

"I've noticed that, I can't leave my chambers without a fur cloak." Aegon pointed at the fur trimmed cloak that lay on the bed.

Sansa smiled, "Me neither. Although inside the castle is always warm, you know because of the hot springs."

"Mother used to tell me of them, I've never believed her but now I can see it for myself." Aegon said.

Sansa was confused, "Queen Elia has so much information about Winterfell."

"No, I meant your aunt Lyanna." Aegon quickly said, his expression darkening, "I don't even remember my real mother and Queen Lyanna has always been a mother to me."

Sansa was suddenly ashamed of her foolishness, she knew that Elia had left the capital years ago, when Aegon was just a child. She blushed immediately, "I'm so sorry."

"There is nothing to be sorry about." Aegon went back to his smiling face.

Before they could continue further, a knock on the door came. Aegon got up, "Come in," he called.

The door opened and Sansa cursed inwardly, it was the princess. "Aeg, I wanted to..." Her voice trailed off as she saw Sansa on a corner.

Before that her expression had been a warm smile, but when she saw Sansa, the color left her cheeks and the smile faded, replaced by an impassive face. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you had guest." She murmured as Aegon went to her.

Aegon stole a look at Sansa, his expression hardening, "It's alright, come in. I'm sorry I couldn't talk to you before." He offered.

Sansa got up as well, welcoming Visenya with a fake warm smile. Her smile was returned with surprisingly a real warm and friendly one. Sansa did not understand.

"We can talk later on that matter, though I would have liked to tell you before the meal, but it's alright." She answered to her brother, a scowl playing on her brows.

She turned to Sansa and said something that surprised her, "I'm sorry about that earlier thing Lady Kathrine said, I talked to her about it. It was rather...rude to say such thing." She said, in way that Aegon would not find out about the subject.

"Oh, it was Beth who overstepped her place, not Lady Kathrine." Sansa replied after recovering from the astonishment.

"I just wanted you to know that it's alright to talk of such matters, Lady Sansa." Visenya assured her with a smile.

All while Aegon looked at them with confusion written on his features, but he said nothing, even as his sister left the room.

The next day started well enough. It was after the morning meal when Jeyne and Beth were once again with her in her chambers when a knock on the door startled them. Jeyne opened the door. Sansa expected it to be Aegon, but it was not.

The black haired Prince Aemon stepped inside the room, giving a stiff bow to Sansa. "Lady Sansa," he said, "I'm afraid that my brother was unable to join you today, so he asked me to come in his stead."

Sansa was a tad reluctant herself, she did not find anything special about this sickly prince. She did not understand what was wrong about him, he was always white and sickly and half of the time he was relying on Aegon to support his body instead of his own legs. While everybody pitied him, Sansa found him extremely pathetic. He reminded her of her other cousin, Robert Arryn. She had once seen the boy while in Riverrun and Aemon looked like a grown-up version of Sweetrobin.

Before the arrival of the royal party, the rumors had it that Prince Aemon was so sick that he could not come. Some said he was injured by many others believed that he was naturally sick. Even if he was wounded, Sansa could not see why it had affected him that much, every single part of him was weak and looked fragile. No, he must have been sick.

"It would be an honor, my prince." Sansa finally smiled at him. She should not upset the pitiable prince, even if he was sick, it was not his fault.

She tried to stay positive with those thoughts, but she could not. As they walked to the the godswood, she studied his face closely. He looked so much like Sansa's father, a true Stark. But the similarities ended in facial features, for Sansa had never seen her father so sick. Aemon grimaced from time to time in pain, and he did not even offer her a word. Eventually, Sansa got tired from the silence, "It's warmer today. That shower yesterday was so awful, I hope it did not bother you with its chill." judging by the looks, Aemon would easily break down with a chill.

"On the contrast, I enjoyed it. It is much better than the south, Lady Sansa." A faint smile came to his lips.

"Please, call me Sansa." She said.

"Then I must insist that you call me Jon." He said. Sansa knew of their non-Targaryen names, but she had never dared to use them.

They stopped in a semi-clearing, where the dark leaves blocked the sunlight. The prince was almost panting for air after their long walk and Sansa suddenly got worried, maybe she should not have brought him this far from the Main Keep. Jon finally leaned onto a tree to gain his breath.

"Are you well?" Sansa asked, worry edging her voice.

"Yes, yes," Jon gasped, "It will be over soon, just a fit." He looked even paler now, but his cheeks were rosy from the bustle. Ghost and Lady both looked up to him with concern.

The word 'fit' reminded Sansa of another one of Robert's problems, maybe Jon was born with the same sickness, confined to a life of misery. Sansa was steeling herself for whatever that was about to happen, the memory of Robert had alarmed her.

"Do you need some help?" She asked.

Jon shook his head firmly, still rasping, "I'm sorry, I'm ruining your day, Sansa." He said with guilt.

"Oh no, not at all, Pri...Jon." Sansa corrected herself.

Jon suddenly looked lost in his own thoughts, "If it wasn't for my foolishness...well, things would have been easier."

She knew it was rude, but she could not stop herself, "What do you mean?"

Jon looked up, like he had just noticed her presence, "I thought I could fight him." He replied concisely.

"Who?"

"You don't know?" Jon was stunned, like it was common knowledge, but then he composed himself, "It's not important, not really."

Sansa did not press the matter, but she intended to find out later. Surely her parents knew, but they would not just tell her. She could also ask Robb, he had befriended the royal children fast enough.

Jon finally started to walk, having gained his breath. Sansa stopped him, "I don't think it's wise to move on, you don't look well, Jon."

Jon looked hesitant but he eventually agreed and they made their way back to the castle. Sansa eyed the prince fearfully, however no other sign of weakness showed up. When Jon escorted back to her rooms, he apologized again, "I'm so sorry, Sansa, I'm more of a trouble than a pleasant thing."

Sansa could not deny that Jon was not Aegon and he would never be, but she smiled, "Not at all, Jon. It was a nice day." She lied, not wanting to hurt him emotionally, he already had enough pain, though physically.

Instead of staying there after Jon had left, she got up and went to Robb's room. She intended to ask him about Jon's words, she needed to know.

"Sansa!" Robb exclaimed as he saw her, "I didn't expect to see you here."

He invited her inside, "Nym told me that you and Jon had went for walking." He said after they settled down on his bed.

"Yes, we had." Sansa confirmed. "Listen, Robb, is Jon just sick or he is injured?" She went straight to the matter.

Again, Robb gave him the same look that Jon had given her when she had asked what he meant. "You don't know?" He even repeated those words.

"Why is everyone thinking that it's something evident? No, I don't." Sansa replied, frustrated. For a moment she was afraid that he would not answer.

Robb did not answered directly, "I hope you didn't treat him like a sickling prince, sister." He said.

"So he's not sick?" Sansa asked doubtfully.

"Gods, no, he's severely wounded." Robb almost laughed at her.

"He said, something about that he shouldn't have fought someone, do you what he meant?" Sansa asked, unsurely.

Robb casted her a long measuring look, as if to see whether she was qualified to know a secret or not. He finally nodded, "What I'm to tell you should not be spread in the castle, the royal family doesn't wish to be so." Robb said sternly and when Sansa nodded in understanding, he continued, "Jon was wounded in a duel. He agreed to fight Arrec Bracken in the man's trial by combat. Bracken had wanted to kill the king and had poisoned him."

Sansa eagerly waited for more details, but they did not come, so she vowed that she would keep her silence, "But I still don't understand, if Jon had done such a noble act, why doesn't anyone _know_ of it?"

"There are some matters, Sansa. Just don't say of this to anyone else." Robb sighed.

Sansa nodded once more, and within a few minutes, she was on her way back to her chambers.

She now understood the prince much better, he was in fact, brave and strong to volunteer for such a dangerous thing just to make sure that the man paid his crimes justly. She was ashamed of herself that she had thought him a weakling when he first had first come to her rooms. However, she could not talk to anyone of the matter.

Jeyne did not seem to know anything about that matter, "I can't believe that he is Prince Aegon's brother. How could the prince send _him_ to take you on a walk? I guess he was doing his brother a kindness." Jeyne said when she once again came back to Sansa's chambers.

"Don't talk of him like that, Jeyne." Sansa scoffed, unable to share the real reason for that.

"As you wish, Sansa. But why did you come back so early?" Jeyne insisted.

"Jon didn't feel well and despite his objections, _I_ thought that it wasn't proper to let him go on any further." Sansa emphasized on her part, she did not want to make it look like Jon's doing.

That night, during the supper, all three of the royal children were present, but their parents were nowhere to be found. The king and queen did not attend the meals normally, though Queen Lyanna had once or twice joined them.

Sansa and her siblings were sitting mixed up with the three royals, enjoying their company. Theon and Jeremy both were present, as well, laughing and talking with Aegon. Aegon, for his part, was amused by the two, never glancing Sansa's way. It made her upset that he seemed like he was avoiding her. Shockingly, it was Visenya who entertained her during the meal. She told her of Red Keep and her mother's gardens, and about the dragon skulls in the Throne Room. The latter part was mostly said to entertain Bran and Arya, who also listening to her.

On the other side of the table, Jon was deep in a conversation with Robb, both acted as if it was the most discreet matter of the kingdom, talking in hushed, stern voices.

Rickon was trying to get Aegon's attention, and the prince laughed at him and played with him. Another sign that made Sansa sure he would make a great king one day. Finally Aegon picked her little brother up and put him on his lap, whispering something to his ear that made Rickon giggle. For the rest of the supper, Rickon played with Aegon.

It was only when her brother was finally put to bed when her silver prince turned his attention to Sansa. While she sipped at her watered down wine, he looked at her from across the table. She caught his gaze and smiled at him, though she was sure that she had also blushed. Aegon offered her a warm smile, one befitting a gallant crown prince.

Though they did not talk during the course of supper, once outside, Aegon came to her and offered to escort her to her bedchambers.

"I am the most sorry for not coming to you today, my lady." He said, genuinely apologetic. "I hope you found my brother's company welcoming." This part was added with a wistful tone, as if thinking of Jon made him such.

Sansa could not say that she had enjoyed, but she did not blame Jon for that, either. Thus, she lied, "Of course, my prince. Your brother is truly gentle." It was impolite and unladylike to say that she had loathed almost every second of it, and then had pitied the younger prince. Sometimes it was better to lie than to be honest.

Aegon leveled her with another smile, it seemed that he was satisfied by her answer. _I should make him happy,_ Sansa thought, _and then he'll be my prince, mine and not anyone else's._ It was a sweet thought, Aegon being her very own prince, Sansa his princess. But Kathrine had mentioned that it was not Aegon who had the last word. _She was lying,_ Sansa realized, _she was lying to please her own princess. Aegon can chose, and he'll choose me._

Sansa could not exactly say that she hated the princess, Visenya was trying, truly, to be good. But her nature was not much different than Arya's, even though a princess by blood, she had no manners. She was a wild girl who wanted to look like a boy. _Maybe being raised along two brothers had made her so,_ she assumed, _but I have three brothers as well, and a sister more like boys._ There was a difference though, Sansa was not of the same age with Robb or Bran, while Visenya was. She had most likely grown up to be very close to them.

Whatsoever Visenya was doing, Sansa wanted to gain the victory of having Aegon as her prince. She would stop at nothing, less so the dragon princess.


	11. The Weather Forecasters

**Chapter Eleven: The Weather Forecasters**

 **Notes:** Hey There! Sorry I've not posted in a while, busy life as per usual. But, I guarantee you that some excitement is in process of the story, very very soon, though not in this chapter.

 **Summary:** Damon reasons with everyone, Lyanna gets furious. Everybody discovers that Starks suck at forecasting the weather.

 _ **Damon:**_

Damon was getting ready for the first 'poison treatment' for Jon. The Tears of Lys had just arrived the last night and after making sure that the sellsword had not said even a word to anyone, Damon and Kathrine had eaten him. He had been delicious, and his death had sent their secrets to grave along with his body.

Damon carefully measured the first dose, which was supposed to be put in Jon's breakfast. Kathrine was eying him closely, controlling every step he made. Damon had read the page about Tears of Lys dozens of times to make sure nothing would suddenly go wrong. They had torn the page from the book and it was carefully hidden beneath another book in Damon's room.

Jon was the most drugged one since Damon and Kathrine had set foot in Westeros. He had gotten some doses of Damon's blood when he was injured, though not more than a drop each day, for it would be too suspicious if that fatal wound suddenly healed. At first, when Jon had been just brought to his room, bleeding all over the place, Damon had been scared for him. But the milk of poppy seemed a good way to hide a drop of his blood in it, though he could not give him more, lest the creamy color of the liquid would turn pink or red. That was also too obvious to risk it.

And now they were trying to poison him. At that moment, Damon felt guilty about the prince, he was just a child. However, he shook away the thoughts, he was being too soft about this whole matter. He dismissed the idea of Jon being just a child by the fact that everyone seemed premature in those times. To the people of those days, fifteen meant that a boy was now a man, and the girls would be considered women as soon as they 'flowered'.

In the past two weeks, Damon had worked on Jon the best way he could, he was now back to his sick state like when they had first sat off for Winterfell. The others had noticed the change in his state as well, which was exactly what they needed.

Damon carefully poured the contents of the spoon into a small vial and gave it to Kathrine, the rest was up to her. She was to sneak into the kitchens and add the poison to Jon's breakfast and give it to some poor servant or maybe Edric Dayne to carry it to his room.

When Kathrine left with the vial, Damon also left the room. He was going to continue his job as Rhaegar's advisor. However, when he opened the door of his room, he encountered Jeremy and Bonnie. He let out a sigh as he let them in. The pair had not talked or even come to him during the last weeks, which Damon was thankful about. The last thing he needed was two more children to take of. And he could not even think of what they would do if they found out about Damon and Kathrine's background activities.

"Ms. Witch and Mr. Hunter, what an _honor_ ," He smirked at them.

"Damon." Bonnie acknowledged him with a murderous glance.

Damon quickly hid the last remnants of his schemes, the two empty vials and the spoon. It was an easy thing to do, considering that Bonnie and Jeremy had already been distracted by his jerkin that lay on his bed. It was his coat of arms they were looking at. "I'm a knight, in case you were wondering." He announced.

His knighthood had not been announced publicly, it was rather ridicules for Rhaegar to even bother announcing such thing to his people.

"And for what great deed exactly?" Bonnie asked.

"Counseling the king, of course." Damon grinned.

"No wonder he's so _mad_ , it's because you're assisting him." Jeremy replied.

Damon did not say that he was actually cleaning up his messes, at least in long run. For now, if anyone found out that he was responsible for the whole events of the past two months, they would just agree with Jeremy. Damon doubted that Lyanna, Jon or Aegon would be thankful of him if they knew the truth. Especially Jon.

"Whatever, why are you here? I don't think you want to pat me on the back, do you?" Damon asked with a roll of his eyes.

"How the hell is Kathrine here?" Bonnie demanded.

Damon desperately wanted to bark at her, but he restrained himself, "I don't know, you're the witch. Actually I was thinking to ask you about her... And Aegon."

"He looks just like Klaus."

"Not _just like_ Klaus, but close enough. And as far as I know he hasn't dyed his hair and isn't wearing contact lenses. So he can't be Klaus or his doppelgänger." Damon explained, at length.

"If he's a doppelgänger then his blood should hold power. We can test it." Jeremy offered.

Bonnie frowned at him, "There are only two kinds of doppelgängers, copies of either Amara or Silas. Klaus and Aegon are neither."

"Now who said that Qetsiyah knows everything? Maybe there are some wicked powerful witches in Westeros as well. Besides this time we're trapped in has the weirdest things ever. They believe in dragons and the Wall actually _does_ exist here." Damon countered.

"All I know is that we need to get out." Bonnie replied stubbornly.

"Yes, but need I remind you that we need magic for that?"

"I have magic. I woke up with my powers." She frowned at him.

"Maybe some of us just doesn't want to come with you." Damon said, startlingly he _meant_ his words. He had grown used to old Westeros and he kind of enjoyed it. It was certainly more fun than dealing with a pack of psychotic witches or some paranoid hybrid who looked like Aegon and those sort of things.

"Now if you excuse me, I've got a meeting to attend." He added as he brushed past the two.

He went to Rhaegar's solar in fast and long strides, he was going to be late. When he got to the room, the meeting had already started and Renly, Lyanna and Ser Gerold were already present. He apologized for his late arrival and sat down.

Ser Gerold looked at him skeptically, while Lyanna did not even look at him, not wanting their friendship come to light. Renly offered him a warm grin, Damon ignored the man. He had heard rumors about him, they said he was gay, although with different terms. Damon had once caught him giving him a hungry gaze during a supper at the Common Hall.

"Ser Damon," Rhaegar turned his attention to him, "What do you think of these Starks?"

Lyanna's face was filled with anger while Ser Gerold's one was an alarmed face. Damon knew that Rhaegar was suspicious about Ned Stark and he had accepted to stay longer just to check the Warden of the North. So Damon decided to play along with his needs, "Eddard Stark is a quiet man, but the quiet rather to think more. He is a dangerous man, I think you need to have him at your fold, your grace." Damon choose his words carefully.

Rhaegar nodded briefly at him and turned to his wife, "See? Your brother is hatching a plan against the crown. Maybe he is not as honor bond as they say, after all."

Lyanna's face darkened, "Eddard is way more honorable than many others I know, _do not_ question his loyalty, Rhaegar."

"His loyalty to whom? He might be still loyal to his dad Baratheon friend." Rhaegar spat, not giving a shit for Renly who sat right there.

However, Renly's face did not change, he had barely known his eldest brother, Robert, Damon guessed. Besides, the death of his brother and his other brother taking the black had caused him to get Storm's End and the whole Stormlands. He did not seem to have a problem with that.

It was Ser Gerold who spoke up, "And what would he gain from being loyal to a long-dead man, beg your pardon?"

"Ser Gerold has a point." Damon spoke up, causing Rhaegar to frown at him, the man expected Damon to agree with him in that. "He might be loyal to live allies."

"Whom do you suggest?" Rhaegar was curious.

Damon was now skating on thin ice, he had to think of a proper, yet far-away person, someone who Rhaegar could not reach at the moment. "Mayhap your brother. He might be wanting to put him on the throne."

This time even Lyanna shot him a warning look, but Damon ignored her. Rhaegar slammed his fist on the table, though his fury was not directed at Damon, "I knew that Viserys had something up his sleeve. He has always been such a wily snake."

"Rhaegar," Lyanna tried.

But Rhaegar cut her off, "Your brother is taking it too far." He complained.

Damon interjected, not wanting him to act before the time was right, "Maybe you should wait, your grace. If you accuse them now, they would get away with it because the lack of evidence. However, given time, they would eventually make a move and then we will get them." Damon reasoned.

Once again, Rhaegar accepted his words without question, "Alright, but I want to see the traitors' in the flames. It would be a fitting death for the son of Rickard Stark." He snickered.

As far as Damon knew, Eddard and Lyanna's father and brother had been burnt alive in the hands of Aerys, Rhaegar's father, at the beginning of Robert's Rebellion. The tales were many, some said that Brandon Stark choked himself while trying to save his father from the fire, some others said that Aerys had them both hanged on top of a great fire and let them roast there in their armors. Whatever the truth was, it made Lyanna lose control, "Don't you dare!" She growled.

Ser Gerold looked hesitant and Renly was finally alarmed. Lyanna was now furious, look Rhaegar square in the eye. Rhaegar, for his part, was pleased by Lyanna's anger, "Don't you boast about how much of a warrior you are."

Lyanna glared at him for a moment and then she bent down, as if she was tying her shoe laces. But people those times did not wear sneakers and Damon felt confused. Lyanna straightened once more, but she was not empty-handed. A piece of metal was in her hands that shone under the pale morning light. With shock, Damon realized it was a dagger.

She swiftly got up and before anyone could even blink, she was behind Rhaegar and had her dagger at his throat. It left no question about where Jon had gotten his fast and swift movements. But the matter was getting serious, Gerold Hightower leapt to his feet, "Queen Lyanna," he warned as his hand went to his sword.

All while, Rhaegar held his head high, as if the dagger was not under his throat, a smirk played on his lips, "You can't kill me."

Lyanna gritted her teeth, "Why can't I? Because I accepted your _mercy_ in Harrenhal?"

"Your grace, please put that blade aside." Renly said, his expression was even more panicked.

"Do as he says, Lyanna. You kill me and you will die before you can even get to the door." Rhaegar said.

"I don't care for dying as long as I see Aegon instead of you upon the throne." Lyanna said.

Damon got to her quickly, before she could do anything and gently pulled her away from Rhaegar. In a tone that no one could hear except her, he whispered in her ear, "Let me handle it all."

Still fuming and hesitant, she strode out of the room. Rhaegar's expression was not the calm one anymore, but a furious one. However, he did not mention the little incident anymore. Renly Baratheon tried to change the topic by talking of some _financial_ issues and Ser Gerold followed the suit.

The rest of the council passed in relative peace after what had happened with Lyanna. Damon left the solar with a worried mind. He needed Rhaegar to trust Lyanna and now Lyanna was ruining the little trust he had for her. The she-wolf needed to control her temper before she could hurt herself and her children. Rhaegar might have loved her, but with his current state, the love could turn into hatred with a spin of the wind.

He was soon required by Aegon to join him and his siblings and cousins in his chambers, like they did it most of the days. Though in that particular day, Damon found them all dressed in riding clothes and furs, even Kathrine was there. Aegon welcomed him with a grin, "We're going camping." He announced.

"In Wolfswood?" Damon asked, startled.

"Of course, stupid. In Wolfswood." Aegon smirked.

It seemed like a good idea, especially to get rid of Rhaegar for a couple of hours. Though there was a condition, if it rained everything would be ruined. And sadly in the old days they did not have such thing as weather participation channels. Well, except for Starks who always _forecasted_ that the winter was coming. Damon was about to mention it but remembered that all these people were Stark-fans and at least half of them had Stark blood, so he shut up.

Just before they could leave, little Arya Stark and her brother Bran came pleading them to let them come along. Arya's pleadings were mostly directed at Jon, who seemed to have a soft spot when it came to his little cousin. Finally, Robb relented and asked for permission from his father. Eddard Stark agreed on one condition, that Sansa would also join them.

It took another hour for the two children, Sansa Stark and her two ladies to finally join them. Sansa was clearly trying to flirt with Aegon, all while shooting daggers at Nym. Damon rode next to Kathrine and when he asked her about it, Kathrine murmured the answer.

"Aegon had let the Stark girl think she'd have an affair with him." Kathrine replied.

Damon frowned, "I knew that already. But what's the business with Nym? They barely know each other."

"They are Targaryens Damon. Need I say more?" Kathrine said, and as she saw the blank look on Damon's face she saw that she needed to say more, "Aegon and Nym have an affair already. I saw them together once, though it was nothing really explicit but still."

Damon was a vampire who had slept with many a woman and cared little for 'honor' but this was sibling incest. _It's sort of barbaric_ , Damon thought. He knew of Targaryen costumes to marry inside the family, but he had not expected it from the seemingly civilized prince and princess. Even Rhaegar had not done it, though it was more likely because he had not had a sister when he had married, but still. He let the matter drop, though. He did not want to think of it. After all, it was _their_ nasty business, not his.

The party came across a clearing soon, large enough for the number of them. It looked to Damon that every single one that was above seven and below eighteen was present. The three royal children, Robb, Sansa and her two friends, Arya, Bran, Theon, Jeremy and Bonnie were all there. Their escort was consisted of Ser Gerold and Arthur Dayne. The two squires of the princes were also present.

Ser Gerold still looked dour from the earlier council meeting and would not meet Damon's eyes without an angry stare at them. Ser Arthur was not much better, the White Bull had certainly told him of the latest events and Damon knew that Arthur was a close friend of Lyanna's and was almost like a father figure to Aegon and the twins.

The camping oddly looked like a modern-day event. There was blankets to sit on, baskets of food and wine, and Robb and Nym were already trying to make a bonfire. Damon was somehow disappointed at the lack of tasty marshmallows and the fact that the blankets were not checkered, red and white. The truth came to light as Kathrine and Bonnie were announced as the executives of the event.

The crackling fire warmed them up, so much that some of them even got rid of their fur-trimmed cloaks, mostly the northerners. It looked like a summer camping, except that it was not summer. At least not by modern terms, these Westerosi still called it late summer. Damon wondered what their true winters would look like if it was just their summer, and he could not even think of north of the Wall. Did these Westerosi not understand the value of human rights? The people they called Wildlings were also human, ones that were trapped at the wrong side of the Wall.

Damon shook his head mentally, if he kept thinking of these things, he would have to join the United Nations when he got back home. It would not do.

When it grew closer to noon, Aegon got up, "Who's ready for a small hunt?"

 _Oh, joy! We're going to hunt our own food,_ Damon though bemused. Robb immediately grinned in approval, and so did Theon. Soon, the boys, with an exception of Bran, and Nym left for finding a fine prey.

Their direwolves led the way, they could sense the good game around them. Damon felt it as well, all around them, not much deep inside the forest, was filled with deer, stags, rabbits and wolves waiting to be hunted. Though Damon did not think that they were going to hunt down the latter, wolves were Starks' _friends_.

It was not long before they caught a small rabbit and then a fully grown deer. Thankfully, the direwolves found their own food and left theirs untouched. Damon helped Theon carry the fresh kill back to the camp.

Robb and Jon started skinning the deer and the rabbit there, where Sansa was badly trying to look away. Her friend, Jeyne she was called, made a gagging sound when she saw the scene and immediately looked back at Sansa, trying to start a conversation. But the trio, and Bonnie, were the only ones who looked away.

The food was delicious, Damon had to admit while deer and stag's blood was uneatable, their flesh was tender and tasty. The fresh and hot meat smelled of smoke and some spices that Nym had added to it, the taste was far better than any fast-food Damon could ever think of. Overall, the food in the old times was far tastier than the ones in the modern times. Damon could stay there only for food if not for other reasons.

However, no sooner than they had finished the spiced hot wine and the roasted deer, a sudden heavy shower started, wetting them to the bone. Everybody leapt to their feet, collecting baskets, blankets, cups and whatsoever else that remained. The two Kingsguard sprang into action to help them. Even Sansa and her two friends helped with the already soaked-wet blankets and packed them on their horses.

Aegon kindly gave his cloak to Sansa, so she could cover her head with some extra fur. Robb did the same with Nym, though she rejected the cloak and gave it to Bran, who was shivering ruthlessly. Arya was bundled in furs with Jon's help and seeing all this chivalry, Jeremy helped Bonnie get on her horse, with a pang of romantic emotions.

In less than five minutes, they were on their way back to Winterfell, however, they were already wet and cold. Even Damon's body was threatening him to shiver. Whatever heat they had gained from their hot meal and the spiced hot wine, it had all worn off by the time they reached the castle.

As soon as they entered, the worried parents rushed to them, except for Rhaegar who was not even there. Lyanna almost dragged her children to the warmth of her own chambers while Catelyn took care of hers. Even the old Ser Rodrick Cassel ushered his little girl Beth into her room.

Kathrine looked like a wet cat next to Damon and she was just as displeased. If it was not for the bone-chilling cold, Damon would have had made a jape about it, but he was already freezing so he ran back to his chambers.

Starks were wrong, the winter was not coming. The enhanced weather forecast was that heavy autumn showers were pouring down at them. Westeros certainly needed a weather channel so fun picnics would not be ruined by a blasted rain.

When he passed from Lyanna's chambers, he heard Aegon and Nym's voices fussing over Jon because he was certainly going to get a chill. The rain had, after all, benefitted Damon. A chill would make Jon weaker and even readier for a sudden fatal illness. They had to throw more of these wet picnics.

 _ **End Notes:**_ So, yes, I basically _love_ the jokes made about Starks' weather forecasting, and I couldn't help but to toy with this idea a bit. Beware, the winter is coming! *chuckles*


	12. Hometown Shame

_**Chapter Twelve: Hometown Shame**_

 _ **Summary:**_ King's Landing gets more visitors, Dany is torn between happiness and worry. Oberyn bites a few dragons. Rhaegar recieves a lot of hate -and love.

 _ **Daenerys:**_

Daenerys was starting to regret her request to attend that day's council. All of those lords seemed to have focused on some irrelevant matter just to pass time. None of them truly mentioned that the realm was almost in ruins because of her eldest brother. Dany knew that the real action was not happening in the Council Chamber, rather in a more private manner with less people.

Almost every night, Griffjon would hold a meeting in the Tower of Hand, where was safely clear from Littlefinger's spies. Dany had never been there, but she knew what happened during those sessions. Griffjon, Viserys and Varys the Spider would discuss the matters concerning Rhaegar's ever growing lunacy.

Even in his absence, the ghost of her brother's madness hung over the walls of the Red Keep, haunting everyone within and leaving them restless. Dany had not been to the Red Keep for a long time, since she had been barely six. She had been sent to Dragonstone along with Viserys about a year after the Rebellion. Back then, Viserys had been but a child of seven, so there had been a few men and women to look after them. As soon as Viserys was old enough to take the reins himself, he had started taking care of Dany and looking after her.

There would be some trips to King's Landing from time to time, but mostly Viserys went there alone. The only time Dany went with him was when she was six. She had known nothing of her brother's madness and had been filled with a girlish joy of seeing her niece and nephews there, who happened to be her age. She did find them there, all three were welcoming and her good-sister had acted like a mother to her. It had been that way only for a week, before that horrible clash happened between Viserys and Rhaegar.

In her short stay in the city, Rhaegar had never once come to her and that night she had heard him when she was trying to find Viserys. They had not known that she had been there, but hearing her name in the middle of their shouts had made her stop by and listen.

The thirteen-year-old Viserys had been facing off Rhaegar as if he was a man grown. He had been defending her against Rhaegar. Rhaegar's words still stung as if they were fresh wounds, "She is a monster that killed our mother while being born. For all I care, she can drown herself in the Narrow Sea, I would not have her here." He had said.

Daenerys had ran away instantly, retreating to her room. She was found red-faced and crying a while later by Viserys, who had come to bid her a good night. All the fury in his voice had washed over and only a sad and tired voice remained. His boyish features had been more visible than when Dany had heard him shout at Rhaegar. And she had even saw a yellowish bruise on his cheek. They had sat off for Dragonstone the day after that, and Dany never went back. She was not even eager to be back even now.

While Viserys continued visiting the city regularly, Dany remained in the castle she had known as her home for all those times, never once forgetting the vicious words of Rhaegar.

And here they were again, back in those menacing halls of the castle, trying to fix whatever the chaos Rhaegar had started. Dany had seen her brother from afar the day she had arrived and the royal party had left. The only thing that had lifted her spirits had been seeing her niece and nephews once more after so long. Aegon was a mirroring image of Viserys -while his twin siblings resembled their mother- however he was as arrogant as ever. Jon looked fragile due to his wounds, but he was the same sweet boy that Dany had once met long ago. And Nymeria was just as playful and wild, Dany remembered playing pretend with her in the godswood of the castle. When they sparred with sticks and pretended to be dragons or the sister-wives of Aegon. Lyanna had been nowhere to be found, busy organizing the preparations and probably keeping the edge off Rhaegar's madness.

"The matter with these outlaws is growing rather serious. We need to do something about them before we have another Kingswood's Brotherhood." Griffjon was saying.

"We need to send parties to arrest them and bring them here. But the matter should be done quietly." Viserys said. There was no need to say that what would happen if Rhaegar found out. There would be a great fire burning the traitors alive.

Ser Janos spoke up, "I will send some men after this, Prince Viserys. I'll tell them to kill those fuckers."

"I suggest you not to kill them, Ser Janos." Griffjon started, looking Viserys's way. Viserys nodded at him, permitting the man to go on. "Lord Commander Mormont had written to me, he says that the Watch is in dire need of men. We can send them there, maybe with a ship to Eastwatch. None will need to know of it outside this chamber and the Wall."

"Sounds well enough, Lord Connington. Ser Janos, you get those outlaws and we will arrange the rest." Viserys replied, then turning to Aurane Waters he went one, "Ser Aurane, you will see to the sea voyage once they are ready. We should waste no time."

The Bastard of Driftmark nodded as agreement. Dany thought the matter was settled and thus the meeting had come to an end, but it had not. Littlefinger brought up another matter, "About the taxes, your grace," he started but was soon caught off by Lord Connington.

"I'm sure that these mattes can wait for another day, Lord Baelish. His grace had already helped us well enough." He said.

Dany tried not to chuckle, it was a fact that Viserys was not good with accounts and such. Checking on those sort of things with Littlefinger would have caused trouble for both himself and the realm. Even in Dragonstone, it was the old Maester Cressen who took care of those matters.

Mercifully, it marked the end of the council meeting. One by one, the lords left the room, Varys and Baelish talking with each other while Aurane Waters strode outside. Janos Slynt left to go back to his post on the City Watch. Maester Pycelle was the last to leave, as slow as a snail, he made his way to the wooden doors of the Council Chamber.

Finally, it was her, Viserys and Jon Connington left inside. It appeared that the session had not yet ended for them. Viserys put his head into his clasped hands, which leaned to the table. He was clearly weary. Lord Connington looked at him with a small sparkle of pity in his eyes. "Maybe you shouldn't work so hard, my prince." He advised.

Viserys shook his head, "No, it's alright. It's still far easier than your job, Lord Connington."

But Dany could see what Griffjon had meant. Viserys looked truly worn-out, and there was bags under his eyes. Dany voiced her own concern as well, "Lord Connington is right, brother. You need to get some rest."

"It is not very likely that Rhaegar comes back anytime soon. I know that the queen is hatching plans to help him, though." Griffjon tried to assure him. Dany took a deep breath, did it mean that there was hope after all? She did not know.

That day, when she finally retired back to her rooms, she found someone waiting for her there. Seeing who it was, she smiled, all the fatigue washing away from her. It was the mysterious Kaleb Westphall.

She had almost immediately befriended him when he had first come to Dragonstone two or three moon's turns before. He was a boastful sellsword from Lys who had managed to find a place Viserys's trusted circle soon enough. And Dany had somehow fallen for his cocky charm and dark humor. There was something about those glittering blue eyes and sandy hair that grabbed her attention. He was always the one that made her laugh until her sides hurt.

Now he was waiting for her in her chambers and her maid had just announced his presence. He got up to meet her face, "Princess Daenerys," and as always, he bent down to kiss her knuckles with a sly smirk that Dany adored.

"Kaleb, I was not expecting you here." She said with a small smile tugging at her lips.

Kaleb looked at her with mock disappointment, "Shall I leave then?"

This time Dany truly laughed, "It doesn't mean that I don't appreciate your presence, ser."

Kaleb gave her an impish grin, "In that case, would my princess like a walk in the gardens?"

"Of course, Ser Westphall." In front of her handmaiden, Dany kept up the formalities. She had no intention to hear the rumors of an affair between her and Kaleb to run across the castle.

He led her to the Queen's Gardens. The name was actually ceremonial, much like the Queen's Ballroom, but during the last decade Lyanna had truly tended to the place herself. It was a beautiful place filled with exotic flowers, bushes and small trees. There were many benches and some canopies here and there. _The gardens would be a dream of any Tyrell_ , Dany mused.

The air was cooler there, which was not something unnatural. The gardens led to the rocks and sloppy ways that in turn led to Blackwater far below their feet. The familiar waters gave Dany a feeling like she was home, back in the safety of Dragonstone. A soft breeze stroked her cheeks and made her feel even better.

She laughed at Kaleb's jests and quips and listened to his wonderful stories. Dany wistfully whished that she could one day see the Free Cities for herself, and enjoy their wonders. The enchanting tales of Braavos and Lys that Kaleb told her were like impossible dreams of freedom and a promise of thrill.

That evening, she went back to her room with even more dreams than she thought was possible. She was half-prepared to get some gold, sneak out of the castle and into a ship and sail for Essos, or even further east, where the mystical lands of Europe laid.

Kaleb had even visited Europe, he had said. Though he had also implied that there had been little civilization there, but he had told her of some wonderful structures of the eastern world that lay far beyond the Narrow Sea. He had told her of the great Roman temples, of the wonderful statues of the Greek and many more. Dany could barely even identify the name of the places that he had mentioned, but she realized that their world was far beyond the Seven Kingdoms. And she had not yet even seen her own kingdom fully, only two of its places, Dragonstone and King's Landing.

Kaleb had left her starry-eyed and full of hopes and fantasies. She sighed as her handmaid Alys helped her slip out of her dress. A warm bath was already set out for her, she dipped in it, feeling the pleasant warmth on her skin.

After that, Alys wrapped Dany's hair into a braid of molten silver. The moon was shining brightly outside. A servant came to tell her that her brother wished to dine with her in his solar. Dany left her room in Maidenvault and with a guard as her escort, went to Maegor's Holdfast.

Viserys still looked tired and weary, even more so than that morning. He was alone -except for his squire- and a pile of parchments was in front of him. He looked up at her when she came inside and threw the last small piece of parchment away, adding it to the messy pile.

He gave her a faint smile, "Dany, come and sit." The squire came forward with her brother's gesture and took care of the parchments on the table.

"You look dreadful, Viserys. I'm serious, you should get some rest." Dany repeated her earlier words.

"I know, I know," Viserys sighed, "But if I leave any of these to later, Rhaegar comes back and things get worse for each and every of these matters."

"But it's not fair!" Dany protested. "It's not your fault that Rhaegar is mad."

"Nor it is his, he is not like Father, little sister." Viserys sighed again.

Dany grimaced, "How so? Some say they're just as mad." She had never known her father, he had died before she was even born. But she had heard of his horrifying deeds.

Viserys ran a hand through his hair, "Rhaegar doesn't have Father's madness, because he wasn't born with it, Dany. I remember a loving big brother, and an amicable prince from the years before the war. The damage he got on Trident... It changed him."

Dany had never heard of this story before. Though she knew of Rhaegar's reputation before the war, but she had thought that it was because he had been hiding his madness from them. "Is it why Lyanna is trying to change him? Her and everyone else?" She asked.

"Yes, all of us believe that there's still hope." Viserys said with a longing tone.

They sat in silence as the servants brought them their food. Dany played with her trout soup but ate nothing. Half her mind was musing over her brother's words and the other half over Kaleb's ones. The images of war and the beautiful places Kaleb had described was scrambled in her mind.

"It wasn't the only reason I asked you here," Viserys's sudden words startled her. She looked up at him until she remembered where they were. "We're soon going to have guests."

"Guests?" It was funny because they were _guests_ themselves.

"Yes. I received a raven from Dorne. Oberyn Martell is coming here, with our niece, Rhaenys."

Dany did not know Rhaenys, in fact, she was yet another forbidden topic in the court. Rhaenys, Queen Elia and the rest of their Dornish family had never come to the court after the former two had left the city. Dany did not remember Rhaenys nor Elia. But Viserys spoke fondly of their arrival now.

"When will they come?" Dany finally asked.

"The letter itself must be over a week's old, and they are supposed to come with ship. So it would be in less than a fortnight." Viserys smiled sincerely at her, but then his face grew serious again. "If Prince Oberyn is truly coming here, then I can already see disorder at his arrival. The Martells had not taken the slight that Rhaegar married Lyanna. Let alone the way that Princess Elia almost fled the city to get away from Rhaegar."

"Wasn't it Prince Oberyn that they call the Red Viper?" Dany asked.

"He is the one. I can only be thankful that Rhaegar's leagues away from here, otherwise there would have been another poisoning, though even more lethal. And even now, I must ask you to be cautious around him... And Rhaenys too. I don't know whether she shares her uncle's allegiances or not. Better not to find out the hard way." Viserys advised.

"Of course. Do they know that Rhaegar is not here?" Dany was full of questions.

Viserys shrugged, "I know not, but I doubt they don't. Bringing Rhaenys here while Rhaegar is still in his _foul_ mood, especially after what happened with Jon... I would call it _unwise_."

Dany nodded. No matter what, but she was waiting to see her Dornish niece, another cast-away just like her, exiled from her home and family.

 _ **Rhaenys:**_

Rhaenys gazed blankly at the glittering sea that surrounded their ship, _Jade of the Sea_. It was rather an inappropriate name, because there was not even a single green item on the ship. But it was swift and perfect for staying close to the shores, which was the exact thing they were doing.

Her uncle Oberyn was a few feet away, talking with the captain. Rhaenys smiled fondly at him, she loved her uncle and his daughters. Though she had problem understanding half of them, but still.

"Enjoying the hot sun?" A soft voice asked.

Rhaenys turned with a chuckle, "You're not a fan of heat, Stefan?"

The foreigner shook his head, "Not really, Princess."

He was a young man of about seven-and-ten, with a handsome face that by Tyene's discerption was _adorable_. She could not argue with her, though, Stefan Salvatore _was_ adorable. And even shy, at times. But when one could breach past his walls, he was an entertaining companion.

"So you boarded your ship way too south. You should have had gone to White Harbor." Rhaenys replied with a grin.

"My princess is too _clever_." Stefan said wittingly.

"And this princess is needed here, Salvatore. You too." Uncle Oberyn called out.

They went to him, "Yes, Uncle?" Rhaenys asked.

"We'll be in King's Landing in a day. You should get your things packed." He winked then, "And after that you can get back to your work."

Rhaenys watched as Stefan's cheek turned into a shade of pink. He was not like the Dornish boys and he certainly found Oberyn's words awkward. Besides, he had never gotten past laughing with her or telling her amazing stories, it was not like the other boys that she had laid with in the past.

He mumbled something and went back to his cabin. After that Rhaenys scoffed her uncle, "He's not Dornish, Uncle. He is not thinking of things this way." She argued.

"As you say, Rhaenys." Uncle Oberyn gave her another wink before leaving her as well, probably seeking Ellaria.

Rhaenys went back to her cabin and did as her uncle had told her, packed her belongings. In truth, she had not enthusiasm to go back to King's Landing. All she recollected from the place was vicious memories. Some from her grandfather and some from her father. She still remembered the day that Jaime Lannister killed Aerys. Though still a child, she had very well known what had been going on. When everyone thought that both her father and Robert Baratheon had died in Trident, Lannister forces had come for them.

She could still hear her mother's shrieks for her to run away, because the worst of Lannister men had been after them. As soon as she had seen the Mountain enter the room, she had fled. Then she had ran as far as she could, only to stop at her father's chambers. She had gone inside in the futile hope to find him there. But he had not been there, so instead she had hid under her father's large four poster bed. Silently crying, she had prayed that her father would come to her rescue and even as Amory Lorch finally found her and had dragged her out of the bed, she had not given up. She had cried and screamed for her father, begged him. And it was just him, she had never called her mother or even a Kingsguard, just her sweet and caring father.

The moment she had finally given up and closed her eyes, waiting for her death to come, he had finally arrived.

His voice had been a furious one, "Let go of her." He had said.

That image of her father, every inch the warrior he was, had been burned into her mind. She could still see him in his magnificent black armor with his silvery hair running down his shoulders. The greatsword in his hands glittered under the morning light and threatened Lorch.

Lorch had easily given up, begging for mercy. To avoid any more bloodshed, her father had finally accepted his submission and had sent him back to Westerlands. Her father's men had also saved her little brother and her mother, just before Clagne could have had hurt them.

Rhaenys blinked to stop the tears that were threatening to fall. Her father's glory had not lasted long before he submitted to his madness. He had dismissed Rhaenys's aunt and uncle and had sent them to Dragonstone. Her mother, Elia, had also suffered his madness and about a year after Viserys's dismissal, she had willingly left with Rhaenys. Rhaenys had seen her tears for Aegon, who had been left behind because her father had not permitted Elia to bring her to Dorne. Even now, Rhaenys would sometimes see her mother cry for her little brother and even Lyanna. She knew that her mother pitied Lyanna and her children for having to deal with Rhaegar, despite the fact that many in Dorne, including her Uncle Oberyn, hated them.

That night, she slept with the restless nightmares of the past. When she woke up in the middle of the night, she was unable to lull herself to sleep once more. So she had went to the decks, and enjoyed the warm draught that caressed her soft skin. In her Dornish clothes, she felt a little cold, but it did not matter. When they would get to the capital, there was no air to breath in and no more freedom.

Rhaenys could only hope that her little half-brother was a good enough companion for her solitude in the city. That was if Aemon was even there. There had been horrible talks that he was gravely injured in a combat to bring king's justice upon someone who had poisoned Rhaegar. But the rumors told little and Lyanna's letter was only read by Elia, who refused to give any further details.

Lyanna and Elia communicated more or less regularly, a matter that had left Oberyn angry and feeling disreputable. It was a strange thing for the rest of the Dornish people to see that the two queens had such a friendly relationships despite all that had happened.

Rhaenys stayed there until the sunrise, when she went back to her cabin to have a light breakfast.

Not an hour later, she was once more called by her uncle to see King's Landing's walls and then the seven towers of the Red Keep. They had reached their destination. The ship docked and they disembarked the ship. A party was already there to welcome them, a group of about a dozen men bearing Targaryen banners.

The group was led by someone that was almost identical to Rhaenys's father. He too old to be Aemon, so Rhaenys assumed that it was her Uncle Viserys, the boy she used to play with as children. Next to her a beautiful young girl, about four-and-ten, rode a silver-grey mare, her silver hair flowing in the wind. She had to be Daenerys.

Uncle Oberyn's face was furrowed in a scorn, even as he was greeted by Viserys. After that, her younger uncle turned to her with a bright smile on his lips, "Rhaenys," he said.

Rhaenys laughed pleasantly as they broke into an embrace, recalling the old days. She was then introduced to Daenerys, who in turn embraced her and kissed both her cheeks.

"Last time I saw you, Prince Viserys, you were but a little boy fantasying of dragons and knights." Oberyn stated to him, almost mockingly.

To Rhaenys's relief, Viserys did not raise to the bait, "No doubt it is every boy's dream, sometimes even grown men's, Prince Oberyn." He replied casually and with a smile.

As much as Rhaenys liked to ride next to sweet Daenerys, she had to keep a close eye on her uncles, lest they would forget everything and duel each other right there and then. She had not missed the dark look that Viserys had casted Ellaria upon being introduced to her. Holding paramours publicly was not common outside Dorne's borders and even less so in the court.

"I hope Aemon is better," she started to change the subject.

Viserys observed her with a look and finally replied, "Last I saw him he was certainly better, he was able to join the royal party going to the North."

Rhaenys was glad that he was alright, but deep down she was saddened that she had lost her chance to see her brother. She was curious about him.

They finally got to Red Keep's gates, where the castle loomed above them, casting a thick shadow on Rhaenys's heart. All those memories flooded back to her for the second time in the past two days. Daenerys took the responsibility to escort Oberyn and Ellaria to their assigned chambers in Maidenvault. Viserys accompanied Rhaenys to her old chambers in Maegor's.

She could not help but to stop in front of her father's bedchamber, where she had once been nearly killed. Viserys came to a halt when she stopped and saw her expression. "It's alright, it was a very long time ago, Rhaenys." He tried to sooth her.

Rhaenys nodded faintly and brushed away the tears that clouded her eyes. She was a fierce princess of Dorne, she must not cry. She managed to hold herself until Viserys left her side and then she burst into tears. Looking around her old room, with the same belongings as the time she had left it, was painful. To think of the life that Robert Baratheon had taken away from all of them.


	13. Gloomy Sunday

**_Chapter Thirteen: Gloomy Sunday_**

 ** _Notes:_** I'm so terribly sorry for this delay. I was out on a trip, and did not have the time to update. And in fact, this chapter needed more proofreading before I was satisfied with it. Honestly, I was a bit lazy to do all that reading, especially writing that scene with Lyanna and Rhaegar (you'll see) was not exactly my cup of tea. I do enjoy reading those ( _not_ going to spoil) scenes, but I suck at writing them. Just so you know, that part was rewritten at least five awful times.

 **Summary:** Winterfell hosts two dinner parties, one goes just fine and the other is fully ruined. Benjen causes Rhaegar to get lusty. Sansa feels embarrassed.

 ** _Lyanna:_**

Lyanna sat in her room, reading the parchment that Maester Luwin had given her. It was from Elia. Apparently Rhaenys was going to the capital, to her home. Lyanna felt happy for the young girl, she would have a good time with Dany and Viserys there.

A knock on the door came and then Rhonda Rowan ducked her head inside, "May I come in?"

Lyanna nodded with a smile, "What's it?"

Rhonda was a friend of hers as well as her lady-in-waiting. She was always trying to brighten Lyanna's mood. "The king is looking for you, he seems angry."

Lyanna sighed, "What has happened this time?"

"I don't know, but I think it concerns your brother, Lord Stark." Rhonda replied.

Lyanna felt her blood boil. Rhaegar had went too far in accusing Ned during their last council meeting and Damon had helped his mistrust. Rhaegar had gone as far as to insult her father and Brandon, who died because of _her_ idiocy. Lyanna took a deep breath and tried to remind herself that it was not truly Rhaegar who was saying these words, rather his sick mind. But she was having problem with controlling herself in the recent days. Not two days ago she had nearly killed him, if it had not been for the presence of the other three men in the room, she would have done it.

She got up and went to Rhaegar's room. He was there, alone and his brows were knitted in a displeased scowl.

"Give me a reason why I should not kill your brother right now." He said, heatedly.

Lyanna was confused, she had thought that Damon had calmed him down after that day. "What has Ned done?" She asked.

"Not him, your other brother. The _crow one_ ," Rhaegar wrinkled his nose in disgust, "He came to me and called me a _dragonspawn_. And many more things."

Benjen was to leave Winterfell that day and Lyanna felt bad for her little brother. "I'm sure he had not meant the words."

"Then why he said them? What is it that your family is conspiring against me? Tell me." He demanded.

She tried to keep her voice steady and collected, "Maybe he had been drunk. Last night's feast was for him, after all. I'm sure he has been in his cups." She took a deep breath before taking a step forward. Mercifully Rhaegar still had his desires for her, and luckily they were not as vicious as his father's had been with Queen Rhaella, though not much better either. The difference was that she did it willingly.

She made sure that her long unbraided hair was lustrous under the pale morning light that filled the room. With a few gracious and yet playful steps, she got to him and almost flung herself on his lap.

He was easily distracted by her and did not press the matter as he played with her raven black locks, She could almost close her eyes and pretend that it was years ago, in the Tower of Joy. But being tender did not last so long, and soon his hands had torn her beautiful dress apart.

She let him do that, and tried to please him the best she could. Reminding herself that her husband was not Aerys, he was not as cruel with her as his father had been with the previous queen.

One hand was placed on her thighs and the other on her breast, nipping at it. Lyanna guided him through, even though it was more abusive than anything, but she did not mind. She had to divert him until Benjen left safely.

At the end, she was on the bed, caged between the soft furs and Rhaegar's heated body. He kissed her one last time and let her leave, thankfully.

She retreating to her own room to find a new dress for herself. Then she went to Jon's room to find it empty.

In the recent days, her son had gotten worse all of a sudden. She did not know why, but it was probably because of pushing himself too far. He had once more started his lessons with Arthur and Ser Barristan and refused to give up.

The little camping trip that they had been to, had not improved him by any. In fact, he had gotten a bad chill but was still insisting on continuing his training. Lyanna loved how fierce he was, but she could not see him get sick and confined to bed once more. Not after that she had nearly lost him during the combat.

She found him and her other two children in the training yard, along with Robb. They were all practicing under the observant eyes of Arthur and Ser Oswell. Lyanna watched them spar for some time before going down the stairs to join them.

Nym looked very confident with herself and Lyanna decided to test her. She waited until her match with Robb ended and then approached them. "May I have a turn?" She asked with a grin.

She heard the bemused laughter of Arthur and turned to him, "Is something wrong?"

"Oh no, just seeing this match would be worth a good fortune, my queen." Oswell replied instead of his sworn brother.

"Well then, enjoy it, Ser Oswell." She chuckled before turning to face her daughter.

She readied herself and soon they were circling each other and testing one another's defenses. Seemingly, Nym was too eager for a quick victory rather than a clean job. The match ended swiftly, though not with Nym's victory. The younger she-wolf was stunned for a moment after Lyanna disarmed her but then started laughing. "I never knew you were _this_ great!" She said.

"It's not even the best part, princess. In Harrenhal..." Oswell's voice trailed off when Lyanna gave him a warning look.

Gratefully no one questioned about what he was to say. Lyanna preferred it that way. It had never been for glory, else she would not have worn a helm, or left the match by the end of the first day.

She continued the morning by sparring with her children and Robb, all of whom fell easily to her. However, she refused Arthur's challenge for a combat, not because she was not eager to, merely because it was time for the midday meal.

Instead of going back to her chambers, she went to the great hall to dine with the rest of her family and friends. The absence of Rhaegar at the meal, had caused both Winterfell's people and the party that had come with her, to be at ease, and the hall was filled with blissful chatters.

Benjen, sadly, had left sometime in the morning, after scolding Rhaegar, and Lyanna had had a short farewell with him. However, the rest of the Starks were mingling with the Southroners.

A few feet away, Damon was entertaining Aegon, Robb and Theon with a story. Next to them, Nym, Jon and Arya were chatting and laughing. Jon's laughter was something genuine, which made Lyanna glad. Jon was not naturally a boisterous person, not like Aegon, but during the recent months he had gotten worse. It had been that way until they came to Winterfell. Now her youngest son was as content as the rest of his siblings and cousins.

"I haven't talked to you for a while, sister." Ned suddenly said.

"I've been busy. Rhaegar," she hesitated, "Well, you know how he is." She did not give up any more information.

Ned did not seem to see behind her words, he was just the simple and good hearted Ned. But it was Catelyn who saw what she meant, "The king distrusts us, does he not?"

Lyanna nodded grimly, "Distrust is a _gentle_ way to put it, though. But yes, he is wary." She let out a sigh, "I'm trying my best, but this time he won't listen to me."

Catelyn offered her an understanding smile and Ned reached to pat her hand. "It must be hard for you." Catelyn said sadly.

"Not as hard as it is for the others." Lyanna replied with a bitter smile that turned more like a grimace. "I'm truly sorry that I brought this storm here." She added after a pause.

"Don't be sorry, Lya. We are always here to help. If not this, then what is the use of family?" Ned assured her.

His words were meant to help her, but they only managed to unnerve her. Bringing Rhaegar here was an unwise idea and she no longer saw a good reason for thinking it could help. She had caused so many problems for her brother and his family after all she had done all those years ago. Brandon, her father and many more had paid for her folly with their life blood while Lyanna had not even bled a single drop. Even her children, Elia, and Rhaenys were still paying for it. Had she not ran away with Rhaegar, then he would still be sane, a fine and worthy king for Westeros. But then a thought clenched her heart, had she not ran with Rhaegar, her beloved Jon and Nymeria would not have been born. Or worse, they could have been born to Robert Baratheon, the whore mongering monster that she had been intended to marry. No, she would give all the world to have her children by her side, all three of them, Aegon included.

Nym was now almost wrestling with little Rickon to hold him still while Arya was trying to make him eat his food. All while, Jon tried his way with words to make the little stubborn wolf open his mouth. Aegon was watching the whole thing with a grinning face and at times he would join Jon in talking to Rickon.

Ned followed her gaze and grinned slightly while Lyanna and Cat was giggling at the scene. Robb also joined in helping Nym hold his little brother still and Bran was threatened by Sansa to be the next if he refused to eat as well. Being at a same level of amusement, embarrassment, and fear, Bran started eating from his vegetable-filled dish.

The scene looked like a real happy family that Lyanna sorely longed for.

 _ **Kathrine:**_

Kathrine enjoyed the cozy fire in Nym's room. The crackling orange and yellow flames kept the cold at bay. Nymeria herself was playing with her scary direwolf at one corner.

The direwolves reminded her of werewolves and those, in turn, were connected to her daughter, Nadia. She mentally shook the thoughts of her away, she was not going to be sentimental about that, not now.

"Is it done yet?" Nym asked.

Kathrine turned her attention back to the work at hand, Nym's dress that she was repairing. "Just a little bit more, and it'll be as good as new." She said with a charming smile.

She hated doing things for others, but it was necessary. Still, she felt jealous of Damon who got to do everything out there. It was frustrating how people thought so lowly of women here. At least she had that in common with the princess she served. Nym would have been a feminist in the modern ages, but here, she was born the wrong gender. _She should have been a_ _boy_ , Kathrine thought.

Mercifully the heavy rain stopped at the afternoon and suddenly the sky was clear again. Though clear did not necessarily mean sunny, the sun was always a faint lamp in the sky there. Not much different from Mystic Falls. After all, it was in the same place as Winterfell now stood.

Just like many other afternoons, there was a gathering for the _young generation_ of the castle. This time they usurped Robb's room for that, which was luckily bigger than Aegon's. At least Kathrine could find somewhere to sit there.

When the two Targaryen brothers entered, Kathrine's eyes automatically turned to Jon. He did not look good at all, and she was afraid that they had done some horrible mistake in measuring the doses. But was sending him to the verge of dying not their purpose? At least, _Damon's_ purpose? Kathrine still argued over doing this to Jon. The boy's smiles melted her heart, something that no one -not even Stefan- had been able to do with her. What was it about those pools of dark grey eyes that drew Kathrine to themselves? Or that rare heartbreaking smile of his? Those jet black curls that was always hanging around his milk-white face? Those full lips that Kathrine wanted to kiss until her lips would go numb, or the...

Kathrine stopped herself, she was not doing _this_. He was just a kid, not even fifteen. She was not thinking like _that_ about him. She was not going to have a weak spot by loving him.

But still, she could not avert her eyes from him. He entered the room and found a place for himself to lean onto while Aegon just closed the door behind and leaned onto it. The blurry sound of chatter was increased with their arrival. Everyone talked in duos or trios. This was not the bad part, though. The bad part was that the duos and trios were formed across the room. Jeremy Gilbert was practically shouting at Aegon so his voice could be heard and Jon was trying to hear what Damon was trying to tell him.

Next to Kathrine, Nym was talking with Robb and grinning at his words. Kathrine entertained herself with talking to the bawdy Theon Greyjoy. The boy looked like he was worth a shot.

"I'm pretty sure that no capital whore can do what _I_ can do." Kathrine said wickedly. And she was sure of it, no other woman could sink her fangs into his neck and give him her blood for some energetic night. Besides there was a whole set of tricks that these ancient people had never even heard of it. Unless they were familiar with _Fifty Shades of Grey_ , which Kathrine was sure that they were not.

There were only the older ones, fourteen years and _above_. So when all of a sudden Sansa burst in the room, almost trapping Aegon between the door and the wall, everyone suddenly stopped talking.

Apparently, the red-hair had not been aware of all these people inside her older brother's bedroom. She immediately blushed at the attention they were giving her and mumbled an apology. Her eyes were wildly searching for Robb, whose form was hidden behind Nym and their two direwolves.

However, the dutiful Stark boy got up to save his sister from her awkwardness. "Come in, Sansa." He gave her a smile.

Aegon, who had managed to get away from being daubed between the heavy wooden door and the rough stony walls, came to her with a wide smile. He offered Sansa a bow as she came in and regarded him with a smile of her own. Robb stood behind her, forgotten. Nym was sending daggers Aegon's way, at first Kathrine thought she was jealous. But then with the pitiful look that she gave Sansa, she knew that Nym was trying to save her cousin from a vain affair with her brother.

Aegon caught Nym's unvoiced objection and almost shrunk back, leaving Sansa to her own brother. Those scenes were comical and everyone were trying to cover their smiles and smirks, though most of them did not know what had motivated Nym. All except for Nym, Aegon and the ever blushing Sansa Stark.

However, in the relative silence, they heard raised voices from another corner of the tower. It was distant, but there was no denying that the shouts belonged to the king.

All the smiles faded immediately and some of them shifted uncomfortably. The open door of the room made the voices clearer but still they could not make the words. There was no doubt, however, of the people involved. The king was on one side and Lyanna and Arthur Dayne on the other. Kathrine picked out some words, due to her vampire abilities.

"Lord Stark...honor...he would never," were some of Ser Arthur's words.

Then the king was bellowing at him, "You're a fool to... Both... Burning them..."

That was enough for all of them. Damon silently slipped out of the room so he could calm the king while Aegon instantly shut the door behind him. The shouts were muffled again by some, but still they bothered them. Those outside the royal family and the Starks, tried to start a conversation. But Theon, Kathrine, Bonnie and Jeremy all failed awkwardly.

"I must go, it is growing late." Sansa suddenly said, as she walked to the door.

Aegon purposed to escort her, which she accepted with a doubtful smile. As soon as they left, the others started making excuses and left. Kathrine and Nym left after Jeremy and Jon, retreating back to her room.

Kathrine closed the door behind them and watched as Nym threw herself in an armchair, "It's getting worse." Nym sighed.

"He can't stay like this forever, he'll get better." Kathrine assured, feeling awkward.

Nym glanced at her before replying, "Is Damon still trying?"

Everyone around them though Kathrine and Damon had some sort of a relationship. It was not entirely wrong, though, for they were partners-in-crime, on hunt for power. Kathrine nodded, "He is, but there are some problems." She did not mention that he was actually the source of the problems, instead she explained the problem itself, "The king has suspected your uncle, actually both your uncles. He thinks Prince Viserys and Lord Stark are plotting at his back."

Nym wrinkled her nose in disgust, "It is nonsense! Everyone knows that Eddard Stark is a man of honor." She said.

"I suppose he just has the sheer luck of being in your father's livid thoughts." Kathrine offered. Under any other circumstances, she would have been too cautious to say such thing aloud. However, she needed to stir up the girl's anger at her father.

That night, the Great Hall felt empty and silent. At least at the higher tables. Lord and Lady Stark were not present and there was no trace of the king and queen either. The children were all quiet, even Rickon had sensed that something was wrong. From the royal children, only Nym was present, barely talking a word.

Damon was not there either. Kathrine knew that something important was on going and she despised just sitting there. The silence and stillness of it all seemed like the hours before a great storm. Kathrine was smart enough to know this upcoming storm would be nothing passive.

Finally, the first crack of the storm came in the shape of a distressed squire. They were all nibbling at their desserts when he came in. It was Edric Dayne, in the worst shape possible. Kathrine immediately knew what was happening, and she did not like it at all, even though she had planned for it alongside Damon.

She knew the words before the boy even opened his mouth. But those words frightened, alarmed and worried everyone else despite being directed only at Nym. "Prince Jon...He's dying."


	14. Our Solemn Hour

_**Chapter Fourteen: Our Solemn Hour**_

 _ **Summary:**_ Aegon acts as the big brother, Lyanna gets angry with grief. Tragedy strikes.

 _ **Aegon:**_

Aegon went to Jon's bedchambers after seeing Sansa to her room. He wanted to make sure that his little brother was alright. His appearances had told him differently that afternoon. Instead of getting better, he was getting worse, ailing and ill-looking.

Jon had just gotten back and was undressing. Aegon saw the white stretched skin around his wound. The scar itself was a long and terrifying sight to see. Aegon could not help but to recall all those bloodied sheets and blood-soaked clothes on the first few days of his injury. To the crown prince, it seemed like the wound was still fresh and bloody as it had been the first day. In truth, Aegon doubted that he would ever forget that queer and peculiar sight.

Despite his words, Jon looked bad. While he insisted that he was just tired, Aegon knew better. He had known his brother for so long to see through those lies. Besides, his looks told Aegon everything he needed to know.

Instead of waiting for a servant to come and light a fire, Aegon did the job himself. As soon as the room got a tad warmer, he turned his attention back to Jon. "You should rest." He ordered.

Thankfully Jon obeyed without any further objections and let Aegon prop him on his bed. Beneath the furs and bed sheets, he looked just as white as his direwolf.

It did not take long before he was fast asleep. Aegon, however, did not leave the room. He got up and started pacing around. Every once in a while, picking up something and putting it onto place, just to do something to keep himself busy. But the room was already neat and what little Jon possessed was all in place.

His mind, however, wandered off. Mostly to the most recent one of his father's 'interests'. He had barely seen his mother in the past week, and no doubt the reason was the king. They had all heard those shouts from Rhaegar's room just that afternoon, not many hours ago.

And then it was Jon. Aegon looked at his sleeping brother. Even in sleep, he did not seem at ease. His face was pulled in a strange frown, as if he was having nightmares. Next to the bed, Ghost was stirring edgily, every now and then trying to get Aegon's attention.

A long time passed like that, with Aegon still refusing to leave Jon's side. He had nothing else to do either ways, at least being there made him feel a bit handier than being a completely useless person.

The time for supper drew near, but he only drank a skin of wine. He was not hungry. Deep inside, he had a bad feeling. Like something vile was going to happen, and he could feel it in his bones.

And it did. When he finally had settled down in a chair, with the wine skin still in his hands. At first Jon was only stirring, but then the stirs turned into tossing and turnings and finally he lurched upwards, in a traumatized action.

Aegon let go of the wine skin and ran to him. Jon's eyes were wild and feverish and sweat was pouring down his face. He was shaking so bad that Aegon felt sick all of a sudden. No one else was in the room that he could get help. So he shouted, shouted for anyone who could hear. He knew that he could not leave Jon to get aid. He was still trembling and his eyes were glassy, Aegon doubted that he could actually see anything.

Even as he gripped at Jon to keep him still and steady, he felt his hot skin. It was almost burning with fever. Aegon kept shouting frantically, hoping that someone would hear him.

Just as he was about to give up on help, Edric burst into the room. For a moment he was frozen at the doorway, but then he ran away to get the maester.

If Aegon had any hopes of that tremor stopping, it turned into ashes. Even when Maester Luwin entered, Jon was still quaking. The three of them tried hard to keep Jon from falling down.

After a long while, Jon's body suddenly went limp and the tremors stopped. He fell back to his bed, his eyelids closing once more. Despite the fever and all, his face was white, as white as a dead man's skin. And for a horrifying moment Aegon thought that he was actually that, just dead. But he was not, mercifully.

The maester started his work without even a word. His hands examined Jon inch by inch. He was now motionless, if one did not know, they would think that he was just slumbering. Sadly, it was not the case. Aegon saw that look on Maester Luwin's face, fear. Fear of being unable to help Jon.

Fear started pooling in Aegon as well. All that rush for helping his little brother was gone, replaced by that crippling fright. He could not bring himself to ask anything from the maester. He did not even dare to open his mouth to talk.

Just as he was gathering his courage to ask about his little brother's condition, the door burst open once more. Apparently Lyanna had not been aware of the situation. For she was calm _compared_ to when she saw Jon, Luwin and Aegon. She just stood there, her eyes wide and alarmed with panic. Shakily, she came forward, "What's happened?" She managed to ask.

Appreciatively, the maester replied before Aegon was forced to do so. "He was having tremors, your grace. He is burning with fever and..." There was that awful pause, "I'm afraid I don't know what to do."

At that moment his mother was just as white as Jon. Aegon doubted that he was any better. He knew it all along, but hearing those words hurt like a thousand daggers. Lyanna had to steady herself by gripping onto one of the bedposts. Aegon felt sick again, his heart was clenched with dread. He tightened his grip on Jon's flaccid hand as he was fighting back a desperate cry, or maybe the hot, scalding tears.

The door, which was left open, was now filled with yet another horrified figure. This one hurt all the worse to see. Nym was panting for air and yet she was just as pale as the rest of them. Her eyes were wide with horror and maybe even woe. Edric was behind her, clearly he had informed her of the situation.

There was only one thing she asked, "How bad is he?"

"I can give him milk of poppy to ease the pain. But there is little else I can do. Mayhaps he will get better on his own."

This was the first time that Luwin gave them a ray of hope, and even though Aegon knew how unlikely it was, he still felt a tad better. His little brother, after all, was a warrior, he could fight death just the same way he had fought Bracken.

The next thing he saw was a flurry of black hair. Nym had thrown herself into his arms. She smelled of winter roses and her soft hair brushed his cheeks. Aegon felt sickeningly guilt-ridden for thinking of those things at that moment. His brother was laying there, dying, and he was thinking of how good Nym's scent was.

The feeling almost made him push away Nym from his arms, but he restrained himself. His mother was now by Jon's side, grasping his other hand. Edric was trying to help, but just as the maester, he was also unable to help the young prince.

The night passed in a haze. Aegon was either calming his mother and sister or tending to his unconscious brother. He had another attack during the night. This time it was even more violent and Aegon was once more crippled by his fear. Ser Arthur had joined them only minutes before the second attack, and if not for him, Aegon would have lost his senses completely. Together, they held Jon back until he stopped shaking.

All four of them refused to sleep that night, each one trying to convince the others to get some rest for themselves.

When the sun finally rose at the eastern skies, a knock on the door came. It was Uncle Ned, he said that he had wanted to come last night, but he had not wanted to bother them. This time, Lyanna did not restrain herself anymore, she let herself loose in her brother's arms and started crying silently. She tried to hide her tears, but Aegon and Nym saw them. That was yet another paining scene.

Aegon looked back at Jon's pale face that was almost buried in the pillows. His skin was glistening with sweat and his black curls were damp and sticky, the only things that varied his color from the bed sheets. From where Aegon sat to his right, he could hear his heavy inhalation, it was as if he labored each time he breathed in. His brother was dying.

 _He was waiting down the tower window. He knew that something was wrong, terribly wrong. He had known it the moment that his soulmate had stepped inside the room last night. He had tried to help him, but his soulmate and his dragon brother had not paid any attention to him._

 _After that thing had happened, they had ushered him out of his master's room. Now all he could do was to sit under his window, waiting to hear anything from up above. He had howled all night long, for the first time in his life. He could feel his pack brothers' questions. They had been in the woods, not knowing what was happening in that tower._

 _Once a human with white cloak tried to get him out of there, but he bared his teeth at the man. No one could move him from where he was, he would stay there until his master would call for him. He was not going anywhere._

 _But he had to break his word. The dragon-blooded king came into the yard with two of his mem at his back, ignorant of what was happening to his wolf child in that tower. It had been him who had let his master fight that red horse, and he was the reason that his master was now so close to death._

 _He could not see the Dragon King be so ignorant. He stopped howling and instead hurled himself at the Dragon King. The white cloaked men were caught off guard. He focused on his prey, this time it was no deer nor stag, it was a dragon._

 _He bared his fangs, ready for the final move, but suddenly he was pulled back. It was the other hunter who had stopped him, the Dark Raven that hunted for blood._

 _"_ _Easy buddy, you don't want to hurt his grace." The Dark Raven said._

 _He wanted to brawl the hunter's eyes out, he was supposed to be his master's friend! As soon as his feet reached the ground again, he made to go for the tower. He heard the Dragon King's outrageous shouts for his head. He refused to stop, however. He did not care for the Dragon King's thoughts, unlike his master._

 ** _Jon:_**

There were voices surrounding him. A distant howling could be heard above all other sounds. Then a familiar female voice, "Tell him I don't care. He can bloody well come and talk to me himself." The voice was angry, but not loud. As if the speaker was afraid that she would wake someone. _Someone_. Was _he_ the one?

A soothing voice came that bore a great grief in his tone, "Mother, it doesn't matter. Don't bother yourself about him." How _familiar_ the voice sounded to him.

The next thing he felt was a cold hand on his temple. He welcomed the coolness, for he was feeling on fire. Then it was a wet cloth that replaced the hand. It was even cooler and made him feel better.

But still he felt burning inside. Every single part of his body hurt like he was stabbed by thousands of tiny needles, or by hundreds of great swords. He could feel his death drawing near. He could smell his own blood that was pouring out of his guts. He could see the confident face of Arrec Bracken, and in his side view, his father's smirk. That sight hurt the most, almost made him give up and let Bracken do his work. But then Syrio's words echoed in his mind, "Not today, lad, not _today_."

Then he remembered that Bracken was dead. He had killed him, but now he was taking revenge from beyond the grave. Syrio's words kept repeating in his mind. He had to obey them. He was _not_ going to die today.

He willed his eyes open. At first the light forced him to shut them again. It took a few moments for him to adjust to the light. Then the faces came into his view. At first, he could just see the outlines. A mop of silver-blonde hair obstructed his view followed by a black veil that blocked the blinding light.

"Jon?" It was Aegon who asked it. Little by little, his features got clear to him. He could now see the worry-etched violet eyes.

He opened his mouth to answer, but he had lost his voice. His head felt heavy on his shoulders and he could not even nod. Finally he groaned in response to both Aegon and the pain he was feeling.

Then both Nym and Aegon were brushed away, replaced by his mother. She looked ten years older than her age and her eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying. He did not understand why. He had killed Bracken, there was nothing wrong with that.

Then he started remembering more and more. He had killed Bracken more than two moon's turns ago. They were in Winterfell now. But still he did not remember the reason of him being in his bed with everyone looking so concerned. The last thing he recalled was that he had a bad headache and Aegon had helped him get to bed.

He tried to smile at his mother to assure her that he was fine. Which he was not. The smile itself came out as a grimace.

"What happened?" He finally found his voice, but it was hoarse and his mouth felt as dry as a desert.

He could not believe what Aegon told him. But then again, he did not understand half of it anyways. He wanted to ask him to repeat, but then he drifted away once more.

 _ **Lyanna:**_

Lyanna had ushered Nymeria and Aegon outside mere hours ago. However, Arthur refused to leave her side, which she was secretly thankful about. The part that bothered him was Arthur trying to make her leave Jon's side as well. He did not see how she needed to be there. She could not think that something could happen while she was away, be it good or bad.

He had woken up yesterday for a few minutes and a few times after that. But none were as long as the first time and Lyanna actually doubted that he had been truly conscious. The gaps between his times of consciousness was increasing by every moment and the attacks were getting more and more regular. He had had the attacks a good five times since his first time and even the milk of poppy had not helped.

The worst part of her torment was Rhaegar. He had ordered her to go to him many a time, each time making Lyanna angrier. He had not even been told of Jon's condition, even though Lyanna was sure that he would not care even if he knew. He would rather be feasting over his son's death.

The burning tears welled in her eyes at the thought of _that_ word. No, her son was _not_ going to die. He was strong, she knew it with every portion of her body. He had fought death before, a chill was nothing compared to that blow. However, she knew well enough that it was no normal chill. He had been getting weaker during the last weeks because of exhausting himself to no end. The camping trip had been the final blow to his health.

"He will be alright." Arthur said, for the hundredth time in that day.

Lyanna nodded shakily, grasping Jon's hot hand in hers. She had restrained herself in front of her other two children, lest seeing her cry would also break them. But now, when she was alone with Arthur, she did not hold herself anymore. The tears were coming down her face, staining her gown and her tousled hair.

Arthur came to her with strong steps and grasped her shoulders in a soothing manner. It made Lyanna surprised, but she was also thankful for his help.

Just as she had calmed down, a soft knock on the door came. It was followed by Catelyn's sympathetic figure.

Lyanna looked up at her good-sister and she knew that Catelyn could see the hurt and grief in her eyes. As she weakly got to her feet, the older woman collected her in her arms like a mother would do.

"Oh Lyanna, I'm so sorry." She said gently.

She held back a sharp reply to those words. She was saying them as if her Jon was already lost. No, her sweet boy was still there, and Lyanna willed to keep him that way. Instead of stating those words, she merely nodded.

"Is there anything I can help with?" Catelyn asked.

Lyanna was about to refuse the offer, but the red-haired woman looked so eager and willing. However, before she could even come up with a task, Arthur spoke up.

"It would be so kind of you, my lady, if you stay here and help us with the matters." He said. What matters, Lyanna did not know.

Catelyn proved to be an able healer, however. She helped with cooling Jon's fever and feeding him spoonfuls of honey and water.

The whole time, Ghost was howling beneath the tower window. The sound made Lyanna go mad with grief, as if it was the winter itself that was taking away her son from her. The Stark words rang true, winter was coming and it brought more than snows and storms with itself. It brought tragedies and doom, at least to Lyanna.

It was about the afternoon when another wave of the ongoing emotional storm hit her. When Catelyn, Arthur and Lyanna had just dealt with another attack and Arthur was busy putting a wet cloth on Jon's forehead, a terrified Edric Dayne opened the door. Just as his uncle was about to brush him away, two more figures appeared behind the boy.

"You are coming out of that wretched room now, Lyanna." Rhaegar commanded her.

Lyanna got up with dismay and walked to the doorway, "Leave me be, Rhaegar. Leave us all alone." She retorted, the pressure on her heart and mind was now letting itself loose on Rhaegar. Her ever hating and monstrous husband, the man who _detested_ his son with all his heart.

Without even bothering with another word, he just grabbed her by arm and pulled her out of the room. Before she could attempt to turn back, he slammed the door behind her and let his fist stay there, trapping Edric, his uncle and Catelyn inside.

Damon Salvatore, who had come with Rhaegar, was eying her uneasily, or what seemed like uneasily. With the swaggering and arrogant knight, it was always hard to tell.

Instead of looking away, she gazed right at Rhaegar's eyes with a furious look. He answered her look with words, "Whatever silly act he is playing, he is just fooling you. He is just playing the weakling who can't get out of his bed." He said with disgust.

Lyanna clenched her jaw, "Is it what they told you? That he is just a tad bit sick?" She nearly growled at him, "Well, it's not even close to the truth. He is dying, Rhaegar. Because of _you_ and _your_ brutal acts." Now she was yelling, the tears were streaming down her cheeks once more, but she did not stop, "My son... _Our_ son, is dying and you are asking me to leave his side. I don't need you to pity him but at least show some mercy to me. Let me be with him when it happens, you owe me that much." The anger had, at some point, left her voice. It was just an empty, ruthless sadness that swallowed her whole. Voicing those things hurt like seven hells, saying the truth that she had been keeping back ever since she had come into Jon's room two nights ago. She was submitting to what was happening and she hated it. She hated it with all her might.

Rhaegar did not soften. Where she was fast, he was strong. He once more took hold of her arm and made her follow him without a word. While he was distracted with her, Damon Salvatore sneaked away from them, going towards the Maester's Tower. Lyanna hoped that he could be a help of sorts to her now-defenseless Jon.

She protested, shouted and yelled all the way to his solar until he almost threw her in a seat to his right. "He can die screaming in pain for all I care." He finally said.

Lyanna did not reply, she did not wish to. If she let herself loose, then she could just throw him out the window. Kinslaying and kingslaying be damned. She just sobbed and wept in silence for Jon and the way her husband talked of him.

"Now that I think about it... Why not give him a quick death with my sword?" He suddenly said, his hand on the hilt of his sword's scabbard.

Her scream was shrill and high-pitched, "No!" Her voice dropped to a pleading tone again.


	15. My Soul Will Go On

_**Chapter Fifteen: My Soul Will Go On**_

 _ **Summary:**_ Damon suggests devilish things, Arthur tries not to become a kingslayer, Aegon tries to become one. A certain direwolf howls.

 _ **Damon:**_

Jon was not faring well, that much was obvious. But it was not enough. It was supposed to be at the peak of believable, and Rhaegar had not yet believed it. Damon could easily say that from the way he had treated his wife.

He went to the maester and to get Jon's portion of milk of poppy. The liquid was a great way to give the poison to Jon. This time the maester gave him something that was much more complex than milk of poppy. It smelled of garlic and medicinal herbs, something like mint. The old man said that it was a mixture of what he called dreamwine and some weird-named herbs and garlic broth. Damon had no intention to taste the peculiar liquid. In comparison, the poison seemed like a harmless substance.

On his way to the tower that Jon was lodged within, he stopped at the base of it, hiding in some corner to empty the vial of Tears of Lys into the cup. He did it carefully, without spilling as much as a drop of the poison.

He came out of the shadowed corner, only to bump into little and wild Arya Stark. Her eyes inspected Damon with suspicion. But Damon asked the question first, "What were you doing here?" He knew that the Starks' rooms were in the Great Keep.

"They say Jon's sick. I wanted to go and see him. But what were you doing here?" She asked sharply.

Damon ignored her question, "He's sick, yes. But you can't go there. Even his own siblings are not there." He tried his luck with the stubborn Arya.

"My mother's there." She insisted.

"She is helping. You'd be of no use up there." Damon was losing his patience.

With a last angry glare and a puff she left the tower. Though Damon could almost smell her skepticism in the air. Had she seen him with poison? But then again, she was just a child, six or seven years old at most, she could not know what she had seen.

With those thoughts, he went back to Jon's room. He was fast asleep, or better to say, fully unconscious. Next to him, were Catelyn Stark and Arthur Dayne. The Stark lady did not even bother looking his way. However, Arthur Dayne was a different case.

"What's your business here?" He demanded angrily, his hand was placed on the hilt of his sword.

Damon pulled a relaxed and casual face, but he made sure to give a sad side-glance at Jon to make it more dramatic. "I want to help," he said with a smile.

"Help," Arthur spat, "Like you even care! Why don't you go back and help the king torture more people, Salvatore?"

Damon pulled another face, an annoyed one at that. "Are you truly not seeing what I'm trying to do?" Not that anyone could, anyway. Even Lyanna and Aegon did not know of his schemes, if they did he would have been dead a long time ago. Before Arthur could answer, he went on, "I'm trying to help him," he gestured at Jon, "And the queen. Can't you see it, Dayne?"

"Am I supposed to believe that?" He was not convinced.

Damon did not care. He showed the cup containing milk of poppy -and the subtly mixed poison- to the Dayne knight and made his way to Jon's side. Without as much as a word, Catelyn Stark leaned back into her chair and let him help the unconscious prince drink the milk of poppy.

Damon could feel Dayne's eyes observing his every movement while he was patiently giving Jon the medicine. But thankfully the knight said nothing, which was a good sign.

When he finished, he turned to the ever silent Stark lady, "Is there anything else I can do, my lady?"

"No, thank you, Ser Damon." The woman replied coldly, in a less palpable way of dismissing him.

Damon did not waver any longer and with a last stare at the stiff Kingsguard, he left the room. Outside the tower, Ghost, Jon's albino direwolf stopped howling only to snarl at him silently.

The terrifying wolf had attacked Rhaegar the last day and Damon had been forced to deal with him. Damon hated the direwolves, they were so damn like werewolves. In particular, they reminded him of Klaus and his pack of psycho-hybrids. And Rose, poor Rose who had been killed because of them.

"Easy, Ghost." A voice came from a few feet away. It was then that Damon saw the silver-haired prince walking towards him. His face bore no smile nor any other of the arrogance which had once been his standard manners. His eyes were dull and his lips were slightly curved downwards.

"Aegon," Damon addressed him with a nod.

"You've been to _him_ ," he said in a matter-of-factly way with monotone voice, "How was he?"

"Still the same. I gave him some more milk of poppy." Damon replied in a somber manner, it would not do to be casual around this version of Aegon.

The young prince nodded grimly, "How's Mother?"

Damon hesitated, if he told him about Rhaegar and the queen, he would get angry and do something stupid, so he lied, "Not really better. But that's to be expected."

Aegon frowned, "Aye. Still, she shouldn't have had sent us away. She doesn't even let us inside that room."

Damon shrugged, "Maybe it's better that way." He ignored the angry look on the boy's face and simply made an excuse for leaving him. He had to see Kathrine and face yet another trial. She was not at all pleased with him insisting to continue poisoning Jon. Such a _kind_ and _genuine_ lover she was.

"What if he actually dies?" She asked.

"Well, then the world will get rid of a sulky prince," Damon shrugged. Kathrine launched at him with anger blazing in her chocolate brown eyes.

"Fine, fine, he won't die," he said, "We'll give him some blood if the things get ugly. Hell, we can even _turn_ him." He thought that as a rather likable idea for Kathrine.

To his shock, she once more pinned him to the wall, "We are not turning him." She said firmly.

"Man, you really love him, don't you?" Damon leered.

"Shut up," was all she said to defend herself.

 _ **Arthur:**_

The violent and agonized coughs were ringing through his ears. He was sure that it filled Winterfell just the same. Arthur, however, was forced to get away from Jon, as was Lyanna. Rhaegar had showed them no mercy but malice. Now, Arthur stood guard behind Rhaegar's bedchambers and could hear the weeping from within. Lyanna was being tortured not only mentally but physically as well.

Arthur could easily think that it was Aerys in that room with Rhaella. But something was even more brutal than those horrible things that Aerys did. The sounds that came from Jon's sickroom were mingling with Lyanna's sobs, making a painful harmony in Arthur's ears. He wanted nothing more than to be deaf at the moment. He could only hope that Lord and Lady Stark would take good care of the poor prince.

Arthur had nothing to do but to stare at the empty darkness of the corridor before him. But the darkness shifted with a dim candle light a few moments later. He saw a flash of silver-blonde hair and a flushed angry face looking at him, though the anger was not directed at Arthur.

"Aren't you going to stop this?" Aegon demanded heatedly.

The words hurt like seven hells. Tonight, the time had moved back, sending Arthur years aback. He recalled a young Rhaegar saying the same words to him and Gerold Hightower when they had been guarding Queen Rhaella's chambers. Now the same man was inside the room, raping Lyanna Stark, while his son was asking the very same question he had once asked.

"I cannot." He merely replied, in a miserable tone.

Aegon looked at him for a long moment and then nodded, "You're right, you cannot," he said, "But I can and I will. Step aside Ser Arthur." His voice was commanding, however, Arthur wished him no harm, and thus he could not let him in.

"I'm afraid you can't do it either, Aegon. He will kill you without a second thought."

"You think I care?" Aegon barked at him. "Jon is suffering worse than I, and I will not sit by and watch as he does that to every single one of us."

Arthur saw the sword that was strapped to the prince's belt, and the hand that was hovering over that, ready to use it. He could not let Aegon do such thing, the boy was blinded by his fury.

Just as he was about to refuse, the door behind them opened. The faint sobbing was now clearer. One candle did not give enough light for Arthur to see Rhaegar's face. But he heard that voice, the deep voice that startled him.

"Step aside, Ser Arthur." He said, repeating what Aegon had said a few moments ago.

Without a word, he did as he was told. For a moment, he was afraid for Aegon's life, but to his surprise, Rhaegar brushed past his son and disappeared in the dark corridor.

Once he was out of earshot, Aegon and Arthur rushed inside the room, to find Lyanna sitting on the bed. She was fully dressed and not even a single mark was on her. However, she was a mess, her tangled black locks were out of shape and her eyes were bloodshot. Her dress was long ago ruined with her salty tears. She looked up at them but said not a word and continued crying, silently this time.

In the background, Jon's coughs got even harsher and he could say that the coughs had left the prince breathless. There were a few hums that were trying to help him. In a silent agreement, the trio left the room. Aegon grasped his mother's hand tightly and Arthur led the way.

Jon's room was alight with dozens of candles and he was sitting in the bed, though not by himself. It was Ned Stark who held him firmly while trying to help Jon breathe. The spasms, however, did not stop. He was quaking and coughing at the same time. There were a few drops of blood on the bed sheets. Jon's eyes were wide open and his pupils were large, but they saw nothing. He gazed into nothingness with those glassy grey eyes of his.

Maester Luwin was doing his best, but with no result. Salvatore was also present, to Arthur's discontent. He was helping the maester mix a potion for Jon. Nym had gotten there just as Arthur and his companions entered the room. She resembled her mother's terrible state and her face was pale with horror.

There were several others in the room, all trying to help Jon. However, one face stood out. One face that Arthur expected the least to find there. One that was standing away from everyone else, staring blankly at Jon. Or what seemed like blankly. Arthur could still see that storm of emotions underneath his steady mask. He had known that look for far too long to not recognize it and yet he had not seen it for too long to ignore it.

Salvatore had gone back to Jon and helped him drink the containments of a cup between those fits. When the cup was dried out, and a few more coughs and vibrations were made, Jon fell back to his pillow. Everyone were silent then. And it was when Rhaegar Targaryen broke.

 _ **The Silent One:**_

 _He was howling desperately. This time he put all his might in that howl, it was a bone-chilling one. One that he was certain that would never repeat again for he doubted that any situation would be more aching than this one. Once he finished howling at the tower's window, he grew silent once more. He did not waver and circled the tower, getting inside the hallways that were now lit with light of hundreds of candles. He heard sobs and weeps from his master's room, but none was his. His master had grown silent, probably forever._

 _But he knew that it was not yet over. He felt it. Ignoring the cursing humans he made his way to his master's room, where the open door led to a packed chamber._

 _He was there, laying on the bed, unmoving. Even his chest did not go up and down as a sign of breathing, even if it did, it was too insignificant to be visible. The room itself smelled of death and illness, it was damp and hot. Too hot for his master's liking, he knew._

 _A few moments after his arrival, almost everyone were ushered out of the room. Even his master's siblings. Only a man with chains around his neck and his master's parents stayed. The Wolf Queen was still weeping for his master and held his master's hand tight, afraid to let go. The Dragon King also had tears in his eyes, and clutched at his son's other hand._

 _He did not find his voice to howl again, instead he pouted and whined as he padded to his master's sickbed. His master smelled of summer no more, it was all winter now. The winter that had withered him away with itself. However, his once tormented features were now calm. As if his master had embraced his doom._

 _But it was too soon to say. While he was not quite dead yet, it was unlikely that he would ever wake up again. He heard the Chained Man's voice who said that his master would not live to see the morning._

 _They all stood vigil there. The Dragon King would sometimes brush away a lock of black hair from his master's face or stroke his face with absolute grief. He could not believe that this was the same mad dragon he had once attacked. The Wolf Queen would never look away from her son or stop crying._

 _He could also hear some sobs from outside the room. It must have been his master's sister, the Young She-Wolf._

 _It was drawing near to dawn and time was running out. The Chained Man's words would soon ring true. He could feel the heartbeats weakening and soon it would stop. That kind and solemn heart would soon beat no more. And then his master's soul would leave his body._

 _He knew he was ready for it, and he hoped that his master would be ready, too. He was willing to sacrifice his body so that his master could continue living._

 _But when the dawn came and the sun started to raise in the east, everything changed. The weak heartbeats were no more, instead his master's breathing grew more and more steady. He could almost see life entering his body, like a log that slowly caught fire. He then knew what had happened, the Dark Raven had saved his master. The hunter of the night had used his powers in a virtuous way._


	16. His Father's Son

_**Chapter Sixteen: His Father's Son**_

 _ **Notes:**_ Before everything I want to thank Master of Dragons God for commenting on each and every chapter I write. It is truly encouraging and prompts me to write faster. Thank you dear! As another note, I have written -and proofread- the next chapter and it might be posted sometime between now and tomorrow. I know I'm posting too much irregularly but I can't help it, after these two chapters I don't know when will I post again.

 _ **Summary:**_ Arya cries. Aegon plays a trick but he doesn't, Jon is confused.

 _ **The Prince of Sorrows:**_

The pale sunlight stung his eyes and the cold morning dew caressed his bare skin. He was sure that this was the afterlife, he had finally died. At least the last moments had been spent in peace. There had been no more agony or pain. No more hearing the cries and sobs of his beloved ones.

But then he willed his eyes open, only to find himself still in his chambers in Winterfell. In the same bed he had spent those long agonizing for days in. He was still in his cage of a body, in his cage of a life.

The first thing he saw was Ghost, curled down at his feet, his eyes were semi-open. And then, when he tried to move, he found out that his hands were both held in firm grasps. First, he saw his mother on his right, she had fallen into a restless sleep, but her cheeks were still stained with tears.

Then with the minimal amount of movement, he turned to his left. It was Aegon on his side. His face was in shadows, until he stirred and moved into the light. It was then that Jon froze. With what strength that remained to him, he pulled his hand away from his grip in horror. He was fully awake when Jon did that, and jerked up in response. Those indigo eyes that were always filled with fury or brutality, were now transforming from sorrow to relief. A pained smile curved his lips up as he looked into Jon's eyes.

Rhaegar carefully reached for Jon's hand, and he was too startled to pull away this time. Besides, he did not have the strength anymore.

"You're awake, son." He said with a smile. For a brief moment, Jon was sure that he was just imagining things. He was probably dead and it was a strange hallucination after death.

The king's next words were troubled, "I'm so sorry, Jon." He did not say _Aemon_ , The king had just used his non-Targaryen name.

He did not find his voice and the king went on, "For everything. I mean it, Jon. I know it's nothing that one can forgive, because it was beyond cruel. _I_ was beyond cruel." He said in a hushed tone, careful not to wake up Lyanna.

Jon's head ached, and he was yet sure whether it was a dream or even Aegon playing some sort of a trick on him. His mind was still half-asleep and he could have easily mistaken his brother for the king. But that look on Rhaegar's face was too somber to be one of Aegon's. Jon could easily say that.

Was it not what he had longed for, since he had been a child? To be accepted by the king? If so, why was he feeling so lost and empty now? There was no joy bubbling inside him, only an empty cask of sorrow.

He so dearly wanted to reject that begging for pardon. To throw the king's mercy back in his face and say that he would never forgive him. It was a great temptation, Jon knew. But his rational part mixed itself with his emotional one and reached a conclusion. It was all out of the king's madness and nothing else. Furthermore, he was not even born with that cruelty, he had only gotten that as a result of his almost-fatal match with the late Robert Baratheon. If there was someone to blame, it would have been the rebellious lord, not the king.

Jon voiced that idea, his voice was croaky and hoarse from thirst, but he still dared not to ask his father for a cup of water. He could not yet be sure of his true states. Just as he finished his short monologue, his mother suddenly stirred and woke with a start. At first, she looked almost fearful of what she would find, until her eyes finally caught Jon's figure who was now sitting in his bed.

She let out a sound of pure joy, "Jon!" She exclaimed before almost strangling him with a bear hug.

Although Jon felt pretty much better, yet he expected a rib or two to crack during that mighty embrace, "Mother," he squeaked while being choked by a curtain of black hair.

She immediately let go of him with worry in her eyes, "Sorry." She said.

He heard a bemused laugh then, one that was so foreign to him. He turned to find Rhaegar chuckling at the scene. Jon had never seen him laugh or smile so genuinely. Even those dark indigo pools were smiling at him.

"I will get the maester. He should check up on you." He said after a moment and got up.

Jon stared at him with wide eyes and as soon as the door closed behind him, he turned to his mother, "What's happened?"

She brushed away a tear of joy from her eyes and smiled at him, "Many things, my sweet son. Many things."

Jon refused to give up, "Like what?"

"Well," Mother swallowed, "You were at the brink of death, Jon. And Rhaegar... Well, up until yesterday, he kept me away from you. He tortured me and Arthur both by keeping us by his side and biting us with his words." She paused, unsure of whether to continue or not, but she eventually did go on, "I shouted at him, begged him, sobbed and wept but he did not soften. But then, last evening, he suddenly left me alone, locked in his room and disappeared. When he came back at about midnight, he looked a mess. His expression was like nothing I've ever seen, even in those distant times."

Jon was curious, had truly such a lethal experience led Rhaegar back to sanity? Lyanna continued, "I've always known him as melancholic those days, but last night he was different. Like a man who had just rose from the dead and found out that he was the last person alive. Or somewhat like that," she shrugged, "Anyways, he came back to me and he suddenly bombarded me with apologies, regrets, and burdens of his deeds. And then...then we heard you. You were almost dying, Jon." She brushed yet another tear, "Maester Luwin gave you milk of poppy. He said at least they would ease the sufferings. But he didn't believe that you'd even make it to the dawn, let alone ever waking up in such a good state. It's a miracle."

And it was. He did not remember any specific thing from the past days, he did not even know how long it had been. However, he could recall and almost feel the pain and agony he had felt in those days. He remembered lots and lots of feverish dreams and nightmares, all muddled into one another, enough for him to feel like he was in one of his father's seven hells.

He even had the distant visions of watching himself through Ghost's eyes as he had experienced that first tremor, the night when Aegon had stayed by his side. The visions still traumatized and troubled him to no end, even though it was over now. And then there were those nightmares about the past. He had dreamt of his grandfather and his uncle's deaths again and again, each time the visions got more abnormal.

The door creaked open once more to reveal Maester Luwin and the king. The maester looked equally surprised and happy to see him awake. And after a full and long examine, he declared that the illness had almost faded to nothingness. _Even my wounds look better than before_ , he thought.

Nevertheless, the maester insisted for him to stay in bed for at least one more week, lest something happened. But Jon had no problem with that part. He found out that it had been a week since the time he fell so ill. A week of being on the thread between life and death, as they told him.

After Maester Luwin, it was his siblings' turn to come to him. Though, they actually came inside silently, hand in hand and steeled for the worst. The look in their eyes changed when they saw Jon smiling up at them. He received two more strangling hugs from his siblings which knocked the air out of him. By the time Aegon had let go of him, Jon was panting for air. If the rest of his visitors were going to do the same, he would just die before the day was over.

"Easy, brother," he said to Aegon.

His brother laughed dismissively, "Sorry," but he did not look sorry.

Jon noticed that both his siblings had fully ignored their father, as if he was a part of the wall behind him. The king, for his part, looked sad but understanding. Jon wanted to fix that, but he did not know how.

Finally, Nym, Aegon and Mother left him alone with the king. At first Jon did not know what to say, "Your grace," he started.

The king grimaced at the word. He had long ago made Jon use his title instead of calling him 'father' and Jon had gotten used to that over the years, accepting that the king wanted nothing to do with him. "Father, Jon, I'm your father." He said solemnly.

Jon nodded faintly, "Father," he said, "I'm sorry for this trouble I've caused." He said.

The king, no, his _father_ , frowned instantly, "Don't even think of it that way, Jon. If it's anyone's fault, then it's mine. I'm to blame for letting that bastard fight you to death." It was nothing like the Rhaegar Jon knew of, this man was a whole new person. The king Jon knew would never ask forgiveness for anything, less so from Jon.

"But he poisoned you." He countered, it had been his sole reason to fight Bracken.

"Aye, he did. But I nearly had _you_ executed for what _he_ did, and I'm ashamed to say that I would have enjoyed the scene...to see you..." His voice broke with what sounded like a sob.

Jon reached for his father's hand, an act which startled both himself and his father. Under his touch, Rhaegar was warm, almost hot, and then for the first time in his life, his father pulled him into a hug.

 _ **Arya:**_

She was annoyed. No one was letting her in Jon's room and everyone said that he would not last much longer. It was not fair, they were all inside his room, and yet none let Arya see him.

It was Jon who had been with her all the time, entertaining her and trying to fulfill her wishes. He was always present when she was bored or asked him to. Even though he had never been as strong as Aegon or Robb, he was kind to her and actually played with her.

Now he was dying of a stupid wound and a damned chill.

Arya paced her room and kicked anything that would come her way, including clothes, bed posts and other things. Her hands hurt from digging her fingers into her palms, and her feet hurt from kicking her bed. She cared not, it was nothing compared to those painful coughs that had been coming from Jon's room until a few minutes ago.

They had now stopped and Arya wondered if it meant good or bad. But then she heard it. Ghost's howl pierced right through her soul and left a whole where Arya's heart was. She knew it was over. Jon was gone. Her cousin, her solemn and yet generous cousin was no more.

And yet no one came to her, none came to tell her that she could go and say good bye or to comfort her. Not even her father. So she cried, cried alone into her pillow where no one could see. Soon, the pillow was almost drenched in her salty tears and her throat was on fire. She failed to sleep. How could she?

The sun had just come up and she was wide awake when a small creak in the door came. They had finally come after her.

But it was not her father nor her mother. The strong figure that put his arms around her was Robb. "Are you awake?" He asked softly.

"I am," her voice was hoarse. "Why did no one come to tell me? Why, Robb?"

"How do you know?" Robb asked after a pause, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"I'm not dumb. I heard the howl, Ghost's howl. Why else would he be howling?" Arya was angry at how stupid her brother was.

To her shock, he burst into laughter. Had he lost his mind? But he did not stop. It was getting uncanny now, "Robb? Are you alright?"

"Oh, you little impatient wolf!" Robb finally stopped laughing, "Come with me." He reached to hold her in his arms and then carried her out of her bed, to the doorway. He put her down there and held her hand instead.

Together, they went to Jon's rooms. Arya was still confused about it all and was half-sure that Robb had gone mad. It was until they opened the door.

The sight made her gape. Jon was there, sitting in his bed but his form was hidden before another figure who was apparently hugging him. At the sight of the silver hair, she was sure that it was Aegon. But Aegon's hair was shorter and curly, whereas his was a glorious long and straight silver-blonde. With a start, she realized it was the king. The mad Rhaegar Targaryen who hated his son with all his might was now hugging Jon so dearly? She did not understand.

They waited until the pair broke apart and finally saw them. Arya could now see Jon clearly. There was no sign of that fatal illness in his features anymore, even though he had almost died the night before. His stormy-grey eyes were shining with energy like Arya had never seen before. The color had come back to his face, though it was still a Stark pale color.

His eyes glistened at her sight and he grinned widely at her. Arya replied his smile with running to his side, hugging him tight. A small whine escaped his mouth and Arya let go of him, she had no doubt that everyone else had done the same suffocating act with him. It was a miracle that his ribs were still unharmed.

Jon kept her sitting on his bed and watched her closely. He certainly saw her puffy eyes because he gave her a solemn look, "You'd been crying." He stated.

Arya felt embarrassed in front of the king and her older brother, but she nodded, "I thought..." She choked on her words.

Jon reached to ruffle her hair, just like Robb used to do, and smiled warmly but there was a playful glint in his eyes, "So I'm that important, Arya Stark cries for me." He teased and caused Robb to chuckle as well as the king, though the latter one's was bitter in some ways.

Arya, however, was annoyed, "Next time I won't even pray for you." She said, but she knew if it happened again, she would still do whatever she could for her big cousin.

When she departed Jon's room, she found Ghost and Nymeria -her direwolf, not her cousin- outside, playing with each other.

 _ **Notes:**_ I usually don't spoil the upcoming chapters, but I just had to say that there's a big surprise in the next one. It is also very "wulfish."


	17. House of the Rising Wulf

Chapter Seventeen: House of the Rising Wulf

 _ **Summary:**_ A wolf and a _wulf_ appear in Braavos. King's Landing gets some old news.

 ** _The Eastern Sellsword:_**

The port was busting with activity. It had been a long time since Wulf had been to Braavos. Now as he disembarked the trading galley he had been with since his departure from Tyrosh, he felt closer to his home.

The home he had been forced to leave about fourteen years ago. He was not in exile, however, but he had not wanted to go back. He missed his family, true. But he wanted freedom, not being stuck in a castle for the rest of his life. He hated going back, anyways, his home had little to offer him other than duty and responsibility. Wulf hated those two, he had hated them since he had been a child. His father had tried his best, but Wulf had never cared. He loved the freedom of Essos, with no one to tell him what was wrong or right.

He could fuck as much women as he wished without being scowled by his family. As a sellsword, he went from one free city to another and enjoyed his time. He worked with whichever sellsword company he wished and he had made enough coin to spend some time in Braavos without fighting for anyone. It was not that he was not a capable fighter or he loathed fighting, he was born wild and warrior. He just wanted some time for himself, to get as much as close to his home as he could.

Ever since he had left his home and had been forced to run away, he had been trying to forget his past and build a new man out of himself. But the memories, both bitter and sweet ones, never left his mind. His sister's smiles and his brother's moping were forever burned in his mind. And his father, he would come to him each and every night he slept. Wulf hated it, he hated being reminded of his family. Of the family that was shattered from within and without. He hated to love the brother who had been so simple minded, to love the sister who had been so stupid and blind. He hated feeling guilty over the father who had been so narrow-minded and yet ambitious. His family had brought nothing but doom to him and themselves.

He only missed the western girls, which their comeliness and shyness. He especially missed the red-haired and black-haired ladies who were too rare in Essos. He had had both of those sorts wrapped around his little finger all those years ago. That shy red-haired lady and the bold black-haired beauty. But he had let them slip when he had left Westeros.

But the man he once was, was dead. To himself and more so to the world around him. Instead of him, Wulf was born. The dark-haired handsome sellsword who had bedded many a noble girl in the free cities. Every one of them had fallen for his sharp features and his smooth lies. Yet none knew the deep-buried truth beneath those young and wild steel eyes. The deep hatred and remorse he bore with himself.

Now the salty wind that came from the sea in front of him promised him that home was close. Nonetheless, it was not where he wanted to go. If he went back, he would gain nothing and lose the freedom he had. He would have to tolerate his family about him and their troubles. If he went back, their troubles would also become his, and Wulf did not want it.

"I didn't know you were going west." A voice said.

He turned to see a sturdy young boy behind him. His tanned skin and dark brown hair sounded familiar to Wulf. Then he recalled the man as one who had traveled with him from Tyrosh.

"I'm not. But it seems you are." Wulf replied. The boy looked like one cut from the same cloth that Wulf was. He saw the same wilderness in the boy's features and the very familiar defiance look about his eyes.

The boy laughed, "I don't know," he shrugged, "I don't know where to go. Is it a good place?" He gestured to the west.

"There," Wulf started, "Is a den of vipers. Not only its capital, but every single fucking spot of it. You can go there, however, if what you seek is power and not freedom." Wulf said with a bitter smirk.

"Got it," the boy said, "I already hate it."

Wulf laughed then, "A wise boy you are. What's your name?"

"Tyler, they call me Tyler."

"And they call me Wulf." He said as he stretched his hand.

Tyler's hand held more force to it than Wulf had expected even from a muscular lad like him. Tyler then asked him, "You've been there before?"

"I was born there and I bloody _hate_ it." Wulf replied. "But where are you from? Certainly not Westeros, huh?"

"Europe, I come from Europe." Tyler replied instantly.

"Long way from home then." Wulf said, "Though none of us are at home. Essos is where everyone end up, I guess. At least the _adventurous_ ones."

Tyler laughed, "Guess so. There are quite a few things I'd like to see here."

"And I suppose you've not yet found an inn, huh?" Wulf did not wait for a reply, "Come, I know a place we can go and get a fine enough room with fair wenches and good ale."

Tyler accepted his invitation and Wulf brought him to the inn he had stayed at all those years ago. When Wulf had just been born and he still missed his home. The ale and the wenches were as fine as he remembered them to be, though none had fiery hair or raven-black locks with violet eyes. But they would suffice for now.

Who knew, maybe one day he could have his fiery lady and his dark star once more. He knew Wulf could not live forever, maybe he could, but he did not wished it to be so. As much as he hated it, he still wanted to go back home someday, though not today.

The tavern was filled with Westerosi sailors. The temptation for some fresh gossip overcame his hate and he started to chat with one of the bawdy sailors who had come from King's Landing.

He told him of the latest stories of the Seven Kingdom, and in particular that of the Dragon King and his son. Even to Wulf, who knew the father and son rivalry well enough, it sounded reckless. Yet the sailor did not know which side was actually to blame, the king or his most hated son.

There was one thing that Wulf did not wish to know, for it would just stir up his hatred for those fucking players of the game. The game he wanted to have no part of it anymore. He knew that the rest of Westeros were no better than the royal family. It was a part he had almost forgotten, or had _forced_ himself to forget.

 _ **Rhaenys:**_

Rhaenys was in the garden with her ladies and Tyene when a servant rushed to her, handing her a piece of parchment.

Rhaenys looked at it with question in her eyes, "What's this?"

"Prince Viserys told me to give it to you, Princess." The servant said.

Rhaenys put it on the table in front of her and nodded, "I will read it, thank you."

But the servant did not leave, "The prince insisted for you to read it right away." She said.

Rhaenys frowned, what sort of matter it was? She picked up the parchment again and unfolded it. The seal on it was broken, but it showed Stark direwolf. It was not, however, from her step-mother. It bore Lord Stark's name which made Rhaenys even more uneasy.

It was directed to Viserys, but the words hurt all the same. The lines floated and blurred in front of her eyes and she had to read the letter thrice before she finally let go of it. The piece of parchment dropped to the floor without a sound, but it drew Tyene's attention. "What's it, Rhae?" She asked.

She did not know why it hurt that much. After all, she did not remember her brother, at least his image in her mind was nothing but the babe she had seen all those years ago. Maybe it was what that truly hurt, that she might never see him again. The letter bore too many mentions of a faint hope for it to be possible. They were just relieves to make the news less heavy.

Dark wings, dark words, Rhaenys thought. It had been that way since she remembered. The dark feathered ravens brought them dark words one after another, each one worse than the last.

Even though the parchment now laid on the floor, Rhaenys could still see the words in front of her eyes. Those painful words. When she answered Tyene's question, her voice was barely a whisper, "It's Aemon. Lord Stark writes that he's...dying." The last word could be replaced with no other ones, no word could put it in a more tender way. And it was the truth, maybe as she was talking, it had already happened. In fact, it had no doubt happened.

Tyene did not show much of a sympathy, "You don't even remember that boy. Why would you care for a wolf?"

Rhaenys could only stare at her with disbelief. Then the emotions flooded back to her, "Why would I care?" She shouted at her cousin, "Why? He is my blood, Tyene. The same way you are."

Tyene did not reply and that only made Rhaenys irater, "He was my brother!" She bellowed at her before striding away.

Her feet took her to a foreign place, where the dark leaves blocked the sunlight and a great oak tree was standing in the middle of the small woods, surrounded with smokeberries.

Rhaenys knew where she was and she could not believe that she had come here. But deep down, she knew the reason. It was where her brother would have come to pray. She knew that her half-siblings kept their mother's religion and it was only fitting to pray for her brother there.

It was only then when she found out that she had referred to Aemon with past tense. ' _Was_ ', she had said that he ' _was_ ' her brother.

The tears welled in her eyes and she dropped to her knees. With closed eyes, she prayed. Prayed for her brother to still be alive, to be safe and sound. She prayed that she would see him once more. Just once and it would be enough for her. She wanted it to be his face she saw and not just some pile of bones when her family came back.

It was odd, the way she felt for the brother she knew too little about. The brother who was despised by both her father and her father's enemies. Tyene's words were evidence to the later.

"Please," Rhaenys murmured to the heart tree, "I know I've never prayed to you. I don't even know if I believe in you, but I plead you, for my brother. You're his gods, help him. Help him get better." Tears fell down to her cheeks, "At least let me see him alive one more time. Don't let him die for other people's follies."

How could one love the brother who had barely even seen? She remembered Aemon as the babe who was in her step-mother's arms, along with their sister, Visenya. Rhaenys recalled how silent he had been. Whereas Visenya and Aegon's cries could be heard across the castle, Aemon barely even whined, which was strange for a babe. _Ever the quiet and taciturn one_ , Rhaenys thought sadly. She stayed there and prayed dozens of prayers, and shed hundreds of tears.

She heard a distant call of her name, it came from outside of the quiet the godswood. At first she thought her mind was playing tricks on her, but then it repeated, "Rhaenys," this time it got closer.

Slowly, she got to her feet, apparently someone was looking for her. When she came out from the shadow of the dark leaves, she found out that it was night already. She had spent the whole day in the godswood. She could barely believe it had been that long, it had felt like merely an hour.

"Rhaenys!" The voice came again, this time with a relieved tone to it. It bore a heavy Dornish accent and it took Rhaenys a moment to realize it was her Uncle Oberyn.

His face was furrowed in a glower and behind him was Stefan Salvatore, with an expression of now settled down fear.

"Where have you been? We've been searching for you the whole afternoon." He said, his tone held a hint of anger but the relief concealed it well.

Rhaenys glanced at the godswood behind her and then back to her uncle, "I was praying." She said in a low tone.

His brows arched upwards at her answer, "There?" But then realization dawned on his face, "Listen, Rhaenys, you're being over emotional about it."

She was being _over emotional_ about death of her _brother_? Even Stefan frowned behind her uncle. Rhaenys was even angrier with her uncle than she had been with Tyene. How could he be so cruel about it?

She was so fuming that she could not even find the proper answer for him. Her face was flushed with fury as she strode away without any other words. She passed the courtyard and went back to Maegor's, all while aware of Stefan's soft footsteps behind her. She paid him no heed and only turned to him when she got to her room.

"You don't have to follow me everywhere, Stefan." She spat at him.

He did not look offended, "About your uncle," he started.

But Rhaenys stopped him, "Oh, I _well_ know how he is and _why_ he is so," she smiled a bitter smile, "He must be happy now, seeing that wolf die." She said it with hatred.

Before Stefan could even open his mouth, she went into her room and shut the door at his face.

Sometime later, a knock on her door came, "Go away," she called to the visitor. No doubt it was either Tyene, Uncle Oberyn or Stefan.

"Can't I come in?" It was Viserys's soft voice not Oberyn's.

At least he would not scowl her for being so emotional over Aemon. He would understand her. "Come in," she finally said.

He somehow managed to enter without even a single sound, even the door did not creak when he opened it. It was what Rhaenys liked about him, being so mild and gentle about everything. Viserys reminded her of the father she used to know. Though it was painful, it was also sweet.

Now even his face reminisced her father's melancholic one. He closed the door behind himself, ever so silently. Then he made his way to where she sat on her bed and sat next to her.

There was no need for words. Words were winds, Rhaenys hated them. In its stead, he just pulled her into an embrace. And even when he finally pulled away, he sat there silently.

His presence was enough to make her feel that she was not alone in this. "I went to the the godswood and prayed for him." When she broke the silence, her voice was shaky.

"I did the same, though in the sept," he said, "But I suppose you did the best thing. He keeps the old gods, it's only proper to pray to his gods." He smiled faintly at her.

"You knew him well?" Rhaenys suddenly asked, realizing that she knew little and less about her youngest brother.

Viserys's eyes were focused on the outside, where her balcony opened to. The northern skies were now filled with thousands of shining stars. "I did know him, though I can't claim I knew him the best." He then switched to present tense, "Jon is a very complicated, I must say. And I guess only Lya understands him, and maybe Aegon and Nym. But he's got a several nicknames here in the court which would describe him by some."

"Like what?" Rhaenys asked.

"The Sulking Prince, some call him. The Sorrow of the Dragons is yet another popular title for him. But the one that Rhaegar loves the best is the Targaryen's Shame." Viserys said that with disgust.

"Why? Why does Father hates him so much? I mean, what makes him difference from the rest of us? Though not me, he hates me too, but at least he has _reasons_ for it." Rhaenys said.

Viserys shook his head, "I don't know. But I suppose there are some people who know. Arthur Dayne for one. And Lyanna certainly knows. I believe the Hand does know as well."

"Jon Connington?" Rhaenys asked with raised brows. "Why would _he_ know? What sort of reason is it that we are unaware of yet the people outside the family knows about?" Of course she did not mean Lyanna, she meant the other two.

"Whatever it is, it has roots in the days when he was still sane. Because if you remember, Ser Arthur and Griffjon Connington were quite close to him." Viserys said.

It was not a proper topic to talk about in that situation, Rhaenys knew. But it helped her forget about her brother's current condition. So she absorbed every word Viserys said. She did remember a few distant things of her father's old friends. The two were almost inseparable from Rhaegar. When Arthur was not with her father, it was Griffjon and vice-versa. However, it made no sense. "But if it's that far in the past, then Aemon wasn't even born yet. How could Father even know about him?" Rhaenys voiced her doubts.

Viserys shrugged, "I don't know either. Truth be told, I'm not sure how ugly the truth can be. Maybe finding out his _reasons_ isn't the best idea, if he has any reasons at all." Mayhap he was right.

 _ **Notes:**_ So Wulf...keep guessing -though I think it's a bit too obvious! Anyway, sorry for the formatting issues, I had some trouble with my MS Word and everything seemed modifies, and when I managed to get rid of that issue, lots of others popped out. So sorry about it, I think I will have a hard time troubleshooting it, but I promise the next chapter would be alright.


	18. Black and Gold

**Chapter Eighteen: Black and Gold**

 **Notes:** Well, I can't say how sorry I am for this loooong absence, but since the summer is over, I have hard time posting -and writing- new chapters, so I ask for your forgiveness, and thank you for your patience.

 **Summary:** Matt finds a garden and starts playing the game. The Wall has a dangerous recruit, and a delicate peace state. Everybody, from black to gold, hate Rhaegar.

 _ **Matt:**_

Matt stretched his form in a cat-like way before finally drawing himself out of his bed. He felt light-headed from all the wine he had drunk during last night's feast. He had finally given up to Loras and Garlan's insists to drink a goblet of Arbor Gold and he had been unable to stop himself from getting more and more.

There were always feasts in High Garden, much like the new Reach he knew. They were merry people and had kept that trait through centuries.

However, Matt was still disoriented. How could he not be? A moment he was steeling himself for an explosion made by Damon and next he woke up in the middle of a garden, which in turn was placed in a very odd looking castle. It almost looked like the famous castle of Disney movies, made of white stone and marble.

High Garden was beautiful, in contrast to the world outside its walls. Matt had found out it was even before medieval ages in Westeros, which surprised him. The people around him seemed civilized enough to live in sixteenth century. Yet it was not yet even tenth century –or so he had figured.

He had been lucky that Loras Tyrell and his brother, Garlan had taken him in. They were the ones who seemed to be the heart and soul of the massive palace. Them and their beautiful sister, Margaery. The younger girl had a pretty heart-shaped face with doe-like eyes. As brown as molten chocolate, Matt had mused the first time he had seen her. Her soft brown locks of hair suited her features. But she was not as shy and timid as she looked at the first sight. There was a playful glint to her eyes, something that reminded Matt of Rebekah.

He had no idea where were the rest of them. Was it just him who had been sent back in time? Or were there others that he knew of? As far as he knew, there were none. But then again, he only knew the people in High Garden.

When he was finally dressed in his not-so-comfortable attires, the ones that he had been given by Loras, a servant knocked his door. For a moment, he felt like he was in some sort of hotel which made his guests wear medieval clothing.

"Come in," he called.

The girl opened the door and took a step into his room and then came to a halt, announcing her message, "Ser Loras wishes to see you, my lord. He's in the gardens."

That was not really helping, for the gardens were quite large, almost as vast as a forest. It was High Garden after all. Nonetheless, Matt nodded, "I'll be there shortly."

He could not help but to wonder why Loras Tyrell was trying to get so close to him. His brother, Garlan, was also friendly, but not as half as Loras. Matt had no special quality to him to make him look approachable. At least not to a well-famed knight like Loras.

He, however, did not have any desire to protest. He was being well-fed and had a good place to sleep and did nothing in particular to gain those things. He did not have to be Sherlock Holmes to know what could have happened to him if the Tyrells had not taken him in. Outside the walls of High Garden, people worked hard for just a chunk of bread. They died because of the petty crime of rubbery, or even at times sharing what they had heard with someone else. Matt had heard the talks, even from Loras himself. There were some terrible deeds that the current king committed. The mad Rhaegar Targaryen burned people for crimes such as spying on him or stealing some small things from his queen's bedchambers. There were actual tales about those sort of cases. And those were only the parts that the outsiders saw, many believed there was more to it inside the royal family. Loras had told him of Rhaegar's father, the man known as the Mad King. It was hard to compare the father and son, he claimed, for in some aspects Aerys was worse and in some, Rhaegar easily made his father's brutality look like compassion.

No man in the Seven Kingdoms could make a move without answering for it to the king. He was suspicious about everyone and kept no one close to him. For years the doors of the Red Keep had been closed on the lords and their families. Not that anyone wanted to go and visit the king at any rate, but still some more ambitious lords who had thought they could use the situation to their own ends, had gotten quite fearsome replies from the king.

Matt knew all these because Loras had warned him about it. He was also aware that the Tyrells were among those ambitious lords. Not Mace Tyrell though, more likely his mother, Olenna Tyrell. It would not be improbable for Loras to go to the court one day if Rhaegar let him.

But the rumor had it that the king had traveled north and at his wake, Prince Viserys, Rhaegar's brother, had moved to King's Landing to hold the reins of the kingdom. Loras believed that Viserys wanted power and his brother's absence was a golden opportunity for him.

With such a mad king upon the throne, there had to be many a lord plotting to gain power through him or simply overthrow the king. It was only a matter of time before chaos could infect the court and then all the realm.

It was funny, how Matt had become a political strategist. He could not believe himself, from being a normal boy in a normal school, he had turned to a friend of vampires and werewolves, and now he was living in a strange dimension of time with people believing that magic actually existed once upon a time, and it was not the same sort of magic that Matt was used to.

He finally found Loras in the western wing of the magnificent gardens. He was walking in small circles to pass time and turned to Matt with a smile when he arrived.

"Sorry it took so long. The girl didn't give me the exact address." Matt said with a lazy smile. He was still half-asleep.

Loras grinned, "I should find a map of the gardens for you, Matt." He then took the lead and brought him to a bench hidden amongst great oaks and some fruit trees.

"We're going on a journey." He announced once they were settled.

"A journey?" Matt raised his brows. Were they going to a hunt? He would pretty much like the idea.

But Loras's answer was not something he had expected, "Yes, to King's Landing."

Matt blinked, "But the king..."

"Is not there, remember?" Loras reminded him. Of course he was not there, but Matt doubted that the word would not reach him. It would seem rather threatening to go inside his castle while he was away. Even it would seem suspicious to a non-skeptical person, let alone the distrustful king. And from what Matt knew, Rhaegar was even worse than Klaus when it came to paranoia.  
"And what are we supposed to do there?" Matt asked. Had it been anyone else than Loras, he would have kept his mouth shut, but he knew that Loras cared not for sharing his plans with him.

"Worm our way in Viserys's inner circle, of course." Loras laughed.

Matt was not as positive, "What if he's caught? You told me that Rhaegar's suspicious about his brother already."

"That's the exact reason that he'll be needing our help. And if the things went wrong, we can always pretend that we have been spying for Rhaegar." Loras said, "Besides, we won't be alone. Margaery is coming as well."

"Lady Margaery?" Matt asked like a simpleton. "Your sister?"

"Do you know any other Margaery's?" Loras smirked, "She'll be making it easier for us to gain Viserys's trust. She is, after all, quite a beauty. If that didn't work, there's always a second willing prince to plot with him. You know, Rhaegar's second son, Aemon," Loras lowered his tone at the last part.

"What of him?" Matt asked.

"Well, I hear he's not in good terms with his father. Some say that he also hates his brother. Quite a good person to be in need of a crown." Loras said, "I mean; if Viserys is actually trying to become king, he is deep down in the line of succession. He comes after his nephews and nieces, which makes him fifth in line. But Aemon, on the other hand, is the second. Omitting Aegon would make him the heir and Rhaegar can always be deposed." Loras paused to catch his breath and then, "He would have strong supporters, too. His mother, Queen Lyanna, has a great influence over her husband and with her comes the North. I doubt that Elia Martell will care much for her son. She left him in the hands of her mad husband, after all."

It made sense, but it was unpleasant. Every single member of the royal family looked merciless and reckless to Matt. Lyanna seemed like the kind of woman who would stop at nothing to gain power. Elia was the coward who had left her son in the mercy of a mad man but was still plotting behind his back. Aemon sounded like the jealous prince who could not accept that he was not going to have a crown. Viserys was pretty much the same, only he was more cautious about it.

Not that Loras and his family looked much better to Matt. But they were, however, trying to make Rhaegar's wrongs right. At that moment, the realm seemed like it was in dire need of any other king than Rhaegar Targaryen. Be it the mysterious Aegon, the plotting Viserys or the calculating Aemon.  
"So," Matt started, "What would you need me for?" He surely had a part in his plans, or better to say Olenna Tyrell's plans, else he would not be joining them on this journey.  
"You," Loras grinned widely, "Must seduce the princess, Daenerys I mean. Or any other one of those who got in your way." The grin turned into a smirk, "There are a plenty of them at court, you know. You can chose. Pick Visenya if you want a northern catch, Rhaenys for a burning flame of desire and Daenerys for a shy maid. Though the first two are not yet present there."

And so they started their journey north east, to the den of vipers that was the court. It took them a fortnight to arrive at the capital. The Roseroad offered them the best route and they traveled far from trouble.

King's Landing now loomed above them magnificently. However, Matt did not fail to smell the stench that was wrapped in this outstanding city. He had never been to King's Landing, even in the modern world. Thus, he was at awe when he finally saw Red Keep atop Aegon's Hill. Yet the stench bothered him to no end and he would give anything to stop it.  
Gold cloaked guards watched them from the top of the watch towers as they entered the city from one of its southern gates. They went inside the city completely unceremoniously, maybe Viserys had not gotten the raven they had sent. It was ludicrous, that ravens were actually trusted with messages. Matt doubted that any of them had ever gotten to their destination.

Even so, as soon as they entered the city, a stocky bald man came to welcome them. He wore the same gold cloak as the rest of the City Watch wore and seemed to be their commander.

"Greetings, Ser Loras," he said to Loras who had taken the lead, "I'm Ser Janos Slynt, Lord Commander of the City Watch. I am to escort you to the keep." He said, though his tone held no interest.

Loras frowned slightly, "Is the prince aware of our arrival, Ser Janos?" He asked.

It did not seem polite to ask such, Matt knew, but he, too, was curious to know.

Slynt's face etched with a frown, as if being insulted by that question, "Prince Viserys asked me to do this personally, Ser. He is currently occupied with...some matters." He looked unsure of how to put it and finally let go of it with no other details.

Loras, thankfully, did not press the matter either. Their small party, with Loras, Margaery and Matt at the front, rode behind Janos Slynt and towards Aegon's Hill.  
The first impression of the Red Keep in Matt's mind was, it isn't red, it's just pink. It was actually a faded pink, not even close to red. However, Matt could see why they did not call it the Pink Keep, it would sound silly. Seven tall towers -tall by medieval standards- went high in the sky, none identical to another.

The gates of the castle were guarded by both gold cloaked knights of the City Watch and black cloaked knights, who Matt assumed were Targaryen's household guards. Inside the keep, there was a rush of servants coming and going from one side to another. There were also some knights in the training yard, but only a handful. No doubt the rest of them had went north with their king.  
Surprisingly, they were instantly guided to their rooms in where Matt was told was Maidenvault, the guests' apartments of the Red Keep. It appeared that they were not alone there. Some more Targaryen guards stood behind a door, probably the door that opened to Daenerys Targaryen's room. Matt also saw two ladies coming out of a room with upset expressions. They had a Dornish look to them.

"Matt?" He came to a halt as someone called his name. Turning, he came face to face with a very familiar vampire.

Stefan was not shocked to see him though, or so Matt assumed. "What are you doing here?" Matt asked in astonishment.

"I'm here with Oberyn Martell and Rhaenys," there was a pause, "The princess. But of how I ended up here, I know nothing." Stefan shook his head.

"Me neither," Matt shrugged, "I came here with Tyrells."

They were interrupted by Loras, who had come to see why Matt was lingering. Matt introduced the two. However, when he was about to present Stefan as a Targaryen, he paused, and Stefan came to his aid, "Salvatore. Stefan Salvatore," he put in.

How silly had Matt been, of course Stefan could not just get along with his real last name. However, he had not even the slightest clue of where Salvatore had come from. Had it been Matt, he would have just used Smith or Brown.

"And you two know each other?" Loras asked Matt.

"We do," he started, "We come from the same town. Though I didn't know Stefan is here."

Stefan nodded in confirmation, "Nor did I."

They finally departed, mostly because of Loras. As much as Matt liked to exchange bits of his knowledge about the old Westeros, they could not do it in front of Loras.

It was late in the afternoon when they were finally invited to Viserys's solar. It was rather surprising that Matt was invited whereas Margaery was not.

On their way to Maegor's Holdfast, Loras and Matt noticed the unusual mood of the people around them. The courtiers seemed to be torn in two completely opposite groups. One were the almost pleased ones and the other ones were the tragedy-stricken faces. And the two were most certainly avoiding each other.

Before the guards opened the door, Matt heard muffled voices from within, Viserys was not alone, it seemed. Yet as soon as they entered, the pair fell silent.

Prince Viserys was the first real Targaryen Matt saw, and he was impossibly otherworldly. His hair was of a silver-blonde color and his eyes were pools of dark violet. Or maybe even indigo. His features were sharp, high cheekbones and full lips. He almost reminded Matt of the elves in Lord of the Rings.

Next to him, sat a man who also had sharp features, but he was in contrast to Viserys. His red hair was cut short whereas Viserys's was only an inch above his shoulders. The man had clear blue eyes and a stocky build. On his coat were two griffins, one red and the other white.

"Ser Loras," Viserys greeted, "I am the most sorry for the poor greeting you received, but I was not in a good shape to come to you in person this morning." Matt wondered what that was supposed to mean.

Loras merely brushed away the matter and in its stead introduced Matt to the prince. He, in turn, presented the man who sat next to him. "This is Lord Jon Connington, my royal brother's Hand." Viserys said.

The red haired man nodded at them before sitting down once more. A servant came to pour them goblets of the sour Dornish wine. It was only when they had settled down that Matt noticed how awful the prince looked. He was in s total mess, and now Matt understood what he had meant by not being in a good shape. However one question still remained, why?  
Loras brought that question forth, though through polite words and pleasantries. Viserys's face darkened even more when he answered, "We received some quite dreadful news from the North last night. I am sure that you are aware of my youngest nephew's conditions." He paused and met their confused faces. "He had been wounded some time before they sat off for Winterfell, but he still insisted on going." Another pause and for a moment anger flashed in his face, "It appears that he had gotten a chill there and then a fever had took over him." There was no mention of his current states, but there was little to no doubt that Aemon was dying or dead already.

It omitted one of the possible ways for Tyrells to gain a footing in the court. But Matt did not feel sorry even the slightest, from what Loras and Garlan had told him, the younger prince had been a wily creature, craving for power.

"That is, indeed, dreading news, my prince." Loras offered.

The atmosphere was heavy for about five minutes before the silence was once more broken. "I saw some Dornishmen here, my prince. Would it be too rude if I ask why they are here?"

Viserys looked as if he was going to say yes, but he only gave them a faint smile, "Not at all, Ser. I do understand this curiosity." There was no emotion in his voice, "They are here as escorts to my niece, Princess Rhaenys."

Matt had not told that to Loras before, and it took him on surprise. "Princess Rhaenys is here? What a splendid event," Loras said.

"I was not aware that you are so fond of the princess, Ser Loras." Jon Connington replied tersely.

"Oh, I never had the pleasure to meet her, but I am looking forward to it." Loras said with a pleasant smile.

Connington smiled a bitter smile, "No doubt you are, Ser."

The look on his face and his prince's one was one of utter frustration and disinterest. As if they had dealt enough with people like Loras and were no longer willing to stick to hollow pleasantries.

 _ **The Black Hunter:**_

"You might want to pay some attention to what I'm saying, Saltzman." Jaime Lannister's voice was full of scorn.

Alaric frowned, but obeyed nevertheless. The knight's words were no more than wind to him. His thoughts were wandering far away. Far from the gigantic icy structure that loomed above them and the castle filled with men of the Watch. He was thinking back at the night when Bonnie had attempted to bring him and many more back from the dead. He remembered crossing the veil yet he had somehow ended up here after that. He had woken up in the frozen hell that was Castle Black, in a weird timeline that was far beyond his knowledge as a teacher. What he had been experiencing ever since, had been impossible. The legends-came-true and the impossible made possible. He was in a world that Targaryens were very real and the Wall truly existed. He could not deny that when the gigantic structure had blocked his view to the northern lands. All those families that had been mythical characters were now real. And they were all in their hunt for power, in their hunt for the Iron Throne and the mad man who sat upon it.

Here in Castle Black, Rhaegar Targaryen had little respect. He had favored the Watch by sending dozens of men there after Robert's Rebellion and all of them hated him for it. Even more so, the northern men of the Watch despised the king for his family had killed their liege lord and his heir all those years ago, and he had married Lyanna Stark and rumor had it that the king tortured her and her children.

The ones that hated Rhaegar Targaryen the most were also the most powerful men of the Watch. Benjen Stark was Lord Eddard Stark and the queen's brother and hated the king with all his might. Alaric had come -or better to say, sent- there when the man had already rode south to meet the royal party in Winterfell. Yet, he had now come back with even stronger hatred towards the Targaryen king.

The man who was currently shouting at every single recruit, was also another hating rival of the Targaryens. Ser Jaime Lannister, or better known as Kingslayer, was the man who had once served as a Kingsguard to Rhaegar's father, Aerys II, and had eventually killed the previous king and then was sent to the Wall for his deeds. This one, Alaric knew, was not to pity, it had been his own deeds which had led to his semi-exile.

The silent raging Baratheon was probably the most dangerous one in that group. He was Robert Baratheon's younger brother and had been sent there because of holding Storm's End even after his brother had been killed in battle, and had refused to bend the knee to Rhaegar. He was a man who believed in undisputable honor and justice, which was good in some ways. Yet it was his cunning that unnerved Alaric, he was harsh and taciturn but he was, for sure, an able strategist.

The Lord Commander of the Watch, Jeor Mormont, was seemingly neutral. However, there was little to no doubt that he supported Starks in that matter and hated the Targaryens.  
It was a miracle that there had not yet been a civil war in the Watch. For even though all of the former three hated the current king, yet they hated each other just the same. Lannister had the support of almost everyone who had fought with the Lannister army during the Sack of King's Landing, which were at least some good forty men. Their second unofficial leader was one Ser Alliser Thorne. He was a bitter knight with a dark and foul mood. He had not been amongst those who had sacked King's Landing, but he had later committed what the king had declared treason by calling him a mad fool, and thus he had ended up in the Wall.

Stannis Baratheon's supporters were fewer, but all loyal to him rather than the Lord Commander himself. His comrade was the smith of Castle Black, Donal Noye. A man who had been an able warrior as well as a smith, but he had nonetheless been sent to the Wall for the high treason of forging Robert Baratheon's warhammer. Alaric thought it ridiculous, that was no crime.  
Then it was the northern wolf, Benjen Stark. A hot-tempered wolf of Winterfell. Though he had come to the Wall out of his own freewill, he, too, hated the king even more so than the other two combined. He believed that he had abducted his sister, Queen Lyanna, and had forced her to marry him. Those of the North followed his opinions and they were not few.  
In such ways had the Night's Watch transformed from the neutral part of the realm to its most disordered one. It was almost as if a werewolf, a witch and a vampire were trapped in a small room for days. The outcome would be inevitable war. In the latter case, the vampire would turn either of the two and the werewolf could just eat them, while the witch would simply kill them both with a spell. Here at the Wall, it was not much different. Those three fractions could easily fight and kill over a king who reigned far away in the south and they all hated him. It was truly stupid. And Alaric was caught in that crossfire and chaos, as if he already did not have enough trouble for being sent back in time.

The tension had grown thicker since three days ago, when Benjen Stark arrived with his small party of the Night's Watch brothers. He had come late at night, but his quarrel with Jaime Lannister had woken half of the castle that night.

 _"If your idiot of a sister had not ran away with him,"_ Jaime Lannister had started to say.

However Benjen's sword had made him reconsider his words, the cut on the famed knight's arm was a bad one, to be sure.

Even now, when the Stark ranger passed the training yard to get to Lord Commander's tower, Jaime Lannister stopped talking to shot the man a glowering look. Benjen Stark only replied the look with a cold gaze of his own.

Sadly, the recruits were the ones that Lannister would unleash his anger upon. Alaric was by far the best of them. Though he did not have any experience with swords, yet he was a vampire and a hunter. Even before that, he had been a fine vampire slayer. Still, it frightened him, he was made to kill vampires and humans alike, Esther had made him the Original Hunter. The animal blood that he discreetly drank only kept him from mummifying. At nights, he would sneak past the guards and to the woods, hunting whatever creature he could find. But it was human blood he carved for.  
Alas, he could not compel people any more. At first he had thought that he had been doing it wrong out of having no experience. But soon he had found out that it was not possible at all. He had all his other powers, but not compelling. Another strange mystery to add to his ever growing collection since he had come to Castle Black.

Jaime Lannister kept sending different recruits his way, and Alaric kept beating them with single strokes of his hands. He had not broken as much as a sweat while all his opponents were either bloodied or bruised, or both. It was disturbing, the amount of blood around him and the smell of it. He did his best not to lose control, yet it made his moves wilder and less restrained. If Lannister was going to send him another green boy, Alaric was afraid for the boy's life. The smell of blood was getting unbearable and it made him so mad that he cut his opponents' hand. More blood, it was too much and he had to shut his eyes, hoping that his senses would also shut down.

"You cut me!" The boy cried out with hatred and fear.

Alaric made himself to look at his injury, it was but a mere cut. Surprisingly, that mere cut and the thin streak of blood, spread such a delightful scent. For a moment Alaric wanted nothing but to hold the boy's hand to his mouth and drink from his wound until not even a single drop of the red liquid remained in his veins.

"That's enough for today," Jaime Lannister was merciful enough, though he was not aware of it, "And you," he said to the boy, "Show yourself to the maester. Though it's nothing but a coward's share of a fight." He smirked before stomping away.

Grenn, the boy who was almost wailing now, also retreated to Maester Aemon's tower. Alaric instantly turned and went to the privacy of the armory, to compose himself and put his blunted sword into its place.

He took a few deep breaths and just to make sure his mind would not fly elsewhere, he stabbed himself a few times with a wooden practice sword. His palms were sticky and red with blood when he heard a clutter from behind, at the entrance of the armory.

He whipped his head and then turned to the gang fully. His vampire nature took over him and he almost showed his fangs, but he controlled himself just in time. Those boys were no older than his students back in Mystic Falls, he wished them no harm. At least his human part wished them no harm. His vampire and savage instincts wanted nothing more than to rip their throats open and feed on them.

They did not make it easier, either. There were five of them, all with nothing but their fists. It would be an easy fight to win. But Alaric did not wish to win, at least not in a fight. He had to either end it with a good fight, which no doubt he would lose control afterwards and kill them, or he had to win it with diplomacy.

He composed a calm expression despite his frying nerves, "I didn't mean to hurt any of you."

Pyp, the one with scrawny figure, laughed harshly, "Like you give a fuck what happens to us! You're just a fucking sellsword who thinks he's better than everyone." His accent was almost impossible to understand.

"I'm not a sellsword." Alaric grimaced, he had no intention of killing these boys, no matter how awful they were.

One of them launched at him, but Alaric simply ducked the blow and before they could catch him, he slipped away. Like a wet fish escaping a careless fisher. He swiftly made his way to his pitiful room and closed the door behind himself. He would have to find another way of living rather than this pit of chaos.

But what for? Out there was just the same world, full of vile people. Alaric did not know how he could get rid of that pathetic place, but he sorely wanted to. _It's so damned uncomfortable here_ , he thought.


	19. R U Mine?

_**Chapter Nineteen: R U Mine?**_

 **Notes:** Sorry for being late... _again_! I'm pretty busy by almost everything these days, but I swear I'm still writing. It's just the last review-editing part that keeps me off posting more regularly. But I assure you I'm always a few chapters ahead, so that I have only proofing before I post a new chap.

Btw, the title is from a song by Arctic Monkeys, which I though would be suitable for the chapter.

 **Summary:** Elena tries hard to stay a vegetarian, Klaus does some research. Aegon and Robb are on the same page after being abandoned by their girls.

 _ **Elena:**_

Elena was starving, she needed human blood. With Klaus feeding on humans, right in front of her eyes, she had to put all her willpower to use so she would not join him. Right now, he was drinking from a hedge knight. Elena could almost taste his blood in her mouth. She could feel the fear and smell pure adrenaline in the red liquid. The stag she had taken for her breakfast suddenly seemed so foul-tasted.

She turned away and ran into the woods, so she could get away from her overpowering bloodlust. However, that did not stop her from catching the first living creature she saw. It was a small brown rabbit, its blood tasted skanky and thick. She wanted to retch and just go and join Klaus in his pleasure. Never before had animal blood tasted so foul, maybe except when Damon had told her so when she had been sired to him.

She waited in the woods until she no longer could catch the pleasant scent of the man's blood. Then she slowly made her way back to the road and watched Klaus draw the body into the forest. "You're such a bore, Elena." He said when he came back.

"I don't want to kill." She said, even though that she was not much sure about it now. She could give anything for a drop of human blood.

Klaus ignored her answer and mounted his brown palfrey. They had stolen two horses after killing off their owner at night. The horses were not what Klaus would be pleased with, he was, after all, fond of fine horses. Yet they were enough to get them to the capital through the Kingsroad. Elena found horse riding a pleasant thing, yet she could not help but to think of how good would her horse taste at the times of hunger.

They had passed the borders of the Riverlands just the previous day and were now riding across the _countryside_ of the Crownlands. Hopefully, they would soon enough reach the capital. Their journey had already taken far too long, even though they had ridden non-stop. Well, at least with the minimum breaks possible. They had been forced to wait ten days before finally a boat agreed to transport them from one side to another side of Trident. The river ran deep and wild at that point, but it was also the shortest route towards the capital.

They finally stopped at an inn for the night. Mostly to gather information and news. It was a crowded inn filled with hedge knights, sellswords, farmers, bards, and such. There were even some merchants from Braavos. The loud noises and shouts of the drunken men were making her head throb. However, Klaus did not seem much bothered by it, he went to the counter where the innkeeper was filling filthy mugs with ale. Elena was almost sure that they never washed their dishware with water here. Most likely they would only clean them with a ragged piece of cloth. Even the thought of it was disgusting.

However, Klaus gave the man a silver coin and asked for two mugs of ale. Yet still, he did not touch his ale after the innkeeper gave it to him. He just ignored it as if it did not exist. Elena found out that he had bought them only to bring the man to talk. And it worked.

This time he posed as a sailor who had been away from Westeros for some time and wanted some fresh buzz. Not only the innkeeper, but the sellswords, farmers and merchants wanted to gossip as well.

"King's Landing's filled with Dornishmen now." A sellsword said.

Klaus frowned, "Dornishmen? What do they want there?"

"They use king's absence. He's in the North." He replied.

Elena felt like she was dumbstruck, they had travelled for months to get to King's Landing and meet the king, yet he was now far off to the North.

Another man offered more information, "They say 'twas the queen's wish to see her family." He laughed then, "She's tryin' to get more supremacy, 'tis clear." His accent and grammar was awful.

The bartender-innkeeper interrupted, "But she's a fool. She left King's Landing for the rest o' those power-hungry snakes. Viserys is there with his sister and niece."

"Which one?" Klaus asked.

"Rhaenys, 'tis why there are so much Dornishmen out there." The first sellsword offered, "The Sandy Princess came when her father wasn't lookin'. Why so much secrecy?"

Elena only shrugged but Klaus seemed absorbed. No doubt he was planning on how to use the princess for his own gain. After weeks of wandering in the tenth century, or even some more ancient time, it was now clear that they were not going back anytime soon. Klaus believed that they had to gain a foothold at the court to at least secure some power for himself. There were no werewolves or vampire that he could rule and he had to find his fortune in ruling some other specie, a more normal one at that.

Although the people of the old Westeros were everything but normal, at least the powerful ones. Elena did not know how simple these smallfolks could be, but she could still see some traces of truth in their gossips and stories. However fool, these people could not have made it all up from themselves. After all, there was no smoke without a fire somewhere.

At least this once Klaus accepted to stay in the inn for the night. They had some coins from the poor people they had killed. They had took some old-fashioned garments from one and some silver stags and coppers from another, horses, swords, and weapons were also collected. Elena felt filthy in her borrowed clothes, it had once belonged to an old milkmaid Klaus had killed. It was not tidy from the start and weeks on the road without even a single bath had made it only worse. She had once tried to wash herself in a stream, but then Klaus had kept scooping at her and teasing her mercilessly.

On the next morning, they once more continued their way southwest to King's Landing. It was about the noon when Klaus found his newest victim, another lone traveler, most likely a sellsword. The man was taken down easily and with little to no struggle to free himself. As soon as Klaus tore his neck open, that awful thirst and bloodlust blinded Elena. This time she was truly hungry, she had not eaten since that rabbit the day before. Without being able to take the control of her limbs, she launched forward. She did not even care for Klaus feeding on the man, she only pushed him away and put her mouth to the bleeding wound in the man's neck. The pleasure that followed afterwards was formidable, somewhat rooted in her basic instincts. The hot liquid that was his life blood flowed out of his veins and to her open and thirsty mouth. She sipped his blood and fear at the same time, feasting on them both.

She did not even realize when it stopped, but she wanted more. She wanted as much as she could get, not just a dozen people, she wanted to drink from hundreds of people in a matter of minutes.

"That wasn't nice, luv. But I suppose you were only _hungry_." Klaus's voice was mocking. It brought back Elena down to earth, leaving her in a shocked aftermath. All the pleasure faded as if she had just pulled the plug, instead horror bubbled in her veins. What had she done? She had just killed a man without as much as a second thought and she had enjoyed it. _How could I_ enjoy _it?_ She thought to herself.

She took a staggering step backwards, her face dumbstruck. Her eyes could not see anything but the corpse in front of her, which its throat was slashed open.

"No," she muttered, "No, no, no... I couldn't have..." Yet she had. She had killed him.

Klaus smirked, "First kill, huh? You're quite a baby, Elena Gilbert." He snorted.

Elena did not even look his way. Instead she was thrown into a mad attempt to hide the body, as if it would clear what she had just done. Her mind was focused on getting the body to the forest and leaving it there. _Hide it_ , her mind seemed to tell, _hide it and no one will know_. But Klaus already knew, he was still smirking from where he stood a few feet away.

She dragged the body to the woods, where animals would finish him off. She remembered the countless times she, Damon and Stefan had done the same in Mystic Falls, but they had never been _her_ victims. This one was solely hers, the blame was on her and there was no one else to blame. She had attacked him, she had drank his blood, and she had feasted on his fear. Not even Klaus could be blamed for that. She had just done what kept her from becoming a true monster, she had just killed an _innocent_.

 ** _Aegon:_**

Aegon knocked on his sister's door and waited. He had not been alone with her since that day after her ride with Robb. Though, they had been technically alone many times ever since, but never in that way. He wanted her now, now that all those tragedies had finished and everything was just fine.

During the previous weeks, he had busied himself by _playing_ with Sansa, the perfect and comely maid of the North. She was beautiful, true, but she lacked the courage Nym had. She feared too much of anything and cared for meaningless things. She had entertained him for some time, but not for long, as had many other ladies before her. Yet it was Nym who he always went back to. She had courage, a great amount of that, even though she still refused to go any further than just passionate kisses and caresses, she still pleased him in a way no other lady could. Many a prostitute had spread their legs for him with great pleasure and many a lady had fallen for him, but Nym was just _different_. There was a thrill about her, maybe the way they hid their little secret. The fear of being caught made it so.

When Kathrine opened the door, he grinned, "Is my sister around?" He asked.

"Of course, just give her a moment, she's dressing." She said, though a knowing glint was in her eyes.

Aegon only grinned further, "She'll see me." Kathrine had nothing to say to that, so she only let him in and left the room. She knew that they needed privacy.

Inside, Nym was not exactly _dressed_ , a shift covered her milk-glass figure and she was fastening her necklace round her elegant neck. The sight of her was enough to make Aegon drunk with lust.

But then she saw him and her head jerked up, she was smiling, but not as eagerly as he was. "Aegon," she greeted and got up.

He expected her to come to him, but then she moved to pick up the gown that was placed on her bed. She grabbed it and slid into it, tying its laces all by herself. There was no haste in her work, but she was clearly hiding her form from Aegon. He slowly moved to her, "What's it, Nym?" He softly asked, though he could hear the hurt in his own voice.

"Nothing," she murmured, "It's just not a good time, Aeg. Not today."

He had to laugh at that, even though he was confused by her actions, "Not today? You've mistaken me for death, dear sister? I must say that Syrio's words do not include _me_."

Nym laughed openly with amusement, "Let's just say that I have a meeting to attend."

"A meeting?" He curiously asked, "With whom?" He looked at her dress, it was far from the simple gowns that Nym favored. It was made of dark red silk, the color of blood, and black Myrish laces, its loose sleeves fashioned in a Southron style. Where was she going that she had put aside her hatred of such fancy gowns, and had disheartened her from accepting Aegon?

"Why, with our dear cousin, Sansa." She replied with a sly smile.

He was lost, "Sansa?"

She nodded, "She's very fond of you and I don't think she will get over it when you leave her. She's not like those ladies at court, she'll weep and fret after you abandon her for another. She's our cousin and doesn't deserve such thing, Aeg."

Was this the matter? She only wanted to warn Sansa? "There would be no other, Nym. I mean it," he took a step forward, looking into her grey stormy eyes.

"It's not about _me_ ," she ran a hand through her hair, frustrated, "Sansa is young and full of songs about love and gallant knights and princes. She has a gentle heart and a caring mind, thinking that everyone else is like her. When we leave for south, her world will be ruined, leaving a bitter and broken soul in its wake," her tone was solemn and as somber as their mother's when she was talking about a matter of great importance, "Love her or leave her before it hurts her, Aeg."

Aegon made no reply. Nym had never cared about who he played with, not truly. Yet here she was now, lecturing him about Sansa. But after all, Sansa was their cousin and mayhaps it made her concerned about the younger girl. Or was it her age? She was about two years his junior and not yet a woman flowered. Whatever it was, Aegon had nothing to say, he did not even _know_ this side of Nym, she had never been so harsh with him before.

So he stood by and watched her get ready until she was finished. He could not help but to admire her in that elegant gown. His sister scarcely wore such fancy dresses, but when she did, she became a vision of divinity. Her raven-black hair hung loose on her shoulders, like a river of black water. The blood-red silk of her dress covered with those locks, made her look like a living Targaryen banner. Her eyes were stormy, however, and showed the defiance underneath that beauty.

Aegon was half-tempted to go and kiss her, no matter how she objected. But before his thoughts could get any more dangerous, she made for the door and bid him goodbye. He nodded and murmured what was supposed to be a reply, but she had already left him alone in her room.

Sighing, he slumped out of her room, walking back to his. The idea of being alone once more and having nothing to do, left him unwilling to go there. Luckily, he ran into Robb who looked equally bored and moping. Apparently he had been ignored as well, though Aegon did not know by whom. _Maybe Sansa_ , he thought with dark irony. But no, they were not Aegon and Nym. Still, he could not help but to recall that hell of a day when Jon had been plunged into sickness. Earlier that day, when Sansa had darted into Robb's bedchamber she had been a curious sight to behold. _Damn you_ , Aegon, he cursed himself, _not everyone is like you, Sansa, even less so_.

"You don't look good, Aegon," Robb observed.

 _My sister just refused me_ , he thought bitterly. Though what he said aloud was, "There's little and less to do today, I'm bored."

"Just so," Robb laughed, "Theon is out there in Winter town and when I tried to have some time with Sansa she just brushed me off, saying that she was awaiting Nym."

So he had been right of sorts, after all. "The same happened with Nym," he chuckled, "It appears that the girls are going to ignore us today. We'll have to find something else to do."

Outside, the dark grey clouds blocked the sunlight, thus, it looked as if it was about sunset rather than noon. Aegon could not look at them without being reminded of that defiant look in his sister's eyes, those eyes had the same color and the same storm about them, waiting to unleash it.

The courtyard was rather deserted save for the servants and a few knights. It was a cold day, especially for the ones who had come from the south. Robb cast a long look at the clouds, "It's going to snow," he observed.

Aegon grinned, "How so? It might be one of those heavy rains. Or the Starks are better with saying these things?"

Robb laughed, "No, but if you live here in the North, you can easily say that. It's too cold to be a rain." He shrugged then, "Anyway, let's do something before we have to go back."

They started sparring with their blunted swords. It mostly ended with Robb's victory. Aegon was good enough in his attacks, but he was not swift enough to dodge Robb's powerful ones. After all those years with Syrio, he had only learned a few things.

When he managed to disarm Robb for a second time, a light snowflake fell on his face. Then another and another after that, soon the air was filled with those beautiful white flakes.

Looking back down at Robb's face he saw the smug smile upon his lips, "See?" His cousin said.

Aegon mocked a frown, "It's not fair. I've never even seen snow." He said truthfully. It was silly, but Aegon did not remember snow. During the last winter, King's Landing had been cold and often drowned in heavy rains, but never snow. And before that, at the beginning of Robert Baratheon's Rebellion, he had been too small to remember the harsh winter. He had heard the tales, though, of how the Blackwater had frozen with icicles and Aerys had ordered pyromancers to fight off the biting cold.

Robb laughed, "It's just a late summer snow, wait until the winter arrives."

Despite the beauty of it, Aegon felt cold under his woolen tunic and practice armor, he was in a dire need of some fur cloak. He shuddered at the cold, thankfully Robb noticed and offered him to go back inside.

Once in his chambers, he gave his damp clothes to Jyke and told him to light a fire in the hearth. There, he felt like melting, which was pleasant after that cold of outside. Once he had donned his fur-trimmed cloak, he left his chambers once more. This time to his brother's. He just wanted to make sure that he was safely inside, he did not trust him with being in the cold after the chill that had almost taken him down. To his relief, Jon was there, though still slumbering.

Edric was there as well, poking the fire at the hearth. He put a finger to his lips as he saw Aegon peeping inside the room, and then got up and came to him. He ushered Aegon outside the warm chambers and closed the door behind them. "I just _forced_ him to sleep, he wanted to come outside." Edric clarified.

So his fear had not been for naught, after all. "Good, keep him in bed. He shouldn't leave here just now." Aegon replied before leaving Edric.

His last hope was his mother. Under any other circumstances, he would have gone to Damon, but he had been keeping himself away for some while. He had once mentioned that the king thought him a plotter –like the rest of his court- and thus he wanted to prove otherwise. So it only left his mother.

Mercifully, she was in her chambers, though not alone. Judging by the voices, he could say they were at least three, but he could not identify them. It was his great-uncle who guarded the door. Lewyn smiled and opened the door for him.

His mother and her ladies were in the small solar that was adjoined to her bedchambers. She was with Aunt Catelyn, Lady Rhonda and Lady Melissa Blackwood. All of them enjoying a happy chatter which made Aegon uneasy and feel that he was not welcome within that group.

Seeing the awkward look on his face, his mother smiled brightly and stretched her hand to him, "Good morning, dear," she said with a lovely yet playful smile.

"Morning, Mother," he replied, getting a bit less awkward. Then he turned to his aunt, and her mother's ladies, bowing to them, "My ladies," he said in his gallant prince tone. Had Nym been here, she would have laughed at how courteous he acted. She always did so whenever he was acting that way. But he was, after all, a prince and he had learned to respect people. At least he did so to the older nobles. To those closer to his age, he was the smug and arrogant Aegon. And to the girls, well, it depended on what sort of girl they were. With Sansa, he was gallant and chivalrous, just the same way he was with all those shy maids at court. With those who were less shy and more playful, he was mischievous and perky. But it was Nym who had his true self, the Aegon that had a bit of everything.

He saw Lady Melissa blush under his gaze, while Aunt Cat and Rhonda Rowan only smiled and greeted him. No wonder though, Melissa Blackwood was the youngest of his mother's ladies, she was barely nine-and-ten, and she had newly come to the court, a moon's turn before they left. Aegon had flirted with her once or twice back in King's Landing, and every time she had blushed and enjoyed his compliments. She was a homely and fair lady, almost identical to her namesake who had once been Aegon the Unworthy's mistress. Aegon would laugh at the irony of that, there had been another Melissa Blackwood and another Aegon Targaryen who had been together. Only that he had no intention to become his predecessor, the lusty and dumb king. However, he would have liked to sway the lady to his side if it was not for his mother. She would be angry if he ever dared to do such thing.

Thus, he ignored Lady Melissa and in its stead went to plant a kiss on his mother's cheek and then another on his aunt's knuckles. But this was not enough for him to feel any more welcome, and so he decided to take his leave before _frightening_ the ladies any further. Apparently his day was not going to get any better.

However, just as he opened his mouth, his mother spoke up, dismissing Lady Rhonda and Lady Melissa. Once they left, Aegon took up Rhonda's seat to his mother's right. He felt more comfortable with only his mother and his aunt in the room. But it was only then when he found out that he had acted as if something important had happened, while in fact he had nothing special to say.

His mother, as quick as ever, understood the situation before he even voiced it and smiled, "I take it that everyone else had been busy then." She quipped.

Aegon grinned, "Yes, I'm the outcast today, I guess." He teased.

Both his mother aunt smiled at that joke, but he was sure that they had gotten the meaning underneath. During the past days, he had truly been cast away by almost everyone, save for Jon. While Nym acted so strange with him and his father had locked himself in his chamber, it was Jon who would entertain him.

"You took care of me in the past two moons, it's my turn now." Jon had half-joked and half-stated when Aegon had teased him about that.

Sometimes, he wanted to hate Jon, because he was now the center of everyone's attention, but he could not. His little brother had suffered far more than Aegon had, and besides, he was not quite responsible for the attention he got. Aegon even alleged it intimidated Jon and thus his brother hated it, though he had never said anything openly.

There was a bottle of watered-down Arbor Gold and another one of the Dornish Sour, the latter a fine vintage. Once Lyanna gave him a goblet and reached to pour him wine, he did not expect her to let him drink from the spiced red vintage. However, Lyanna herself filled his goblet with the thick red liquid. His mother never ceased to fulfill his untold desires. _That's because she's like me in some ways_ , he thought, _she's playful and loves to cause mischief most of the times_.


	20. Teen Wulf

**Chapter Twenty: Teen Wulf**

 **Notes:** Hello everyone! I didn't realize it has been months since chapter 19, so sorry about that. Instead, I have more time now, so I'll update like everyday to fill that void. Enjoy!

 **Summary:** Tyler finds himself a pack-mate and goes to find some Valyrian beauties. Rhaenys mourns and a certain dragon turns into a heartless monster. Jon pens a letter and Inspector Salvatore tries to find clues.

 _ **Tyler:**_

Tyler stole a look at his companion, he was flirting with the tradeswoman who sat next to him. Wulf was quite wolfish at that moment. Tyler could not help but to think whether this mysterious man had anything to do with werewolves or not. He certainly looked like he could be one. He could wait until the full moon and then see it for himself. If Wulf truly had the werewolf gene, he must have activated it by now. He was a sellsword and it was highly unlikely that he had never killed before. He was bawdy at times, but most of the times, he was simply cocky, much like Tyler's Uncle Mason.

But the problem was, Tyler did not even know when he was. He had been to Braavos once in his childhood, but the city he remembered was quite different. There was only one thing that had not changed at all, it was home to different races and people from across the world, much like New York in the States. But whenever he now was, the city was most certainly in its glorious days. The Titan of Braavos stood tall, shadowing the city. In the modern world, the titan was half-collapsed and it no longer stood upon the water, rather on land.

Tyler had no idea on how he had ended up there, either. One moment he was through the veil back to the land of living and then he was stuck in that strange time. Despite all those weird magical stuff he had been through during the past years, he had never once heard of time traveling.

Yet, he could only be thankful that he had ended up in those populated cities, where the death of some sailor or another would not draw much attention. He could drink from them and then throw their bodies into the sea without as much as a single regret. Luckily, with being a vampire, he had no worries about turning on the full moon. Otherwise, it would have been a hell of a time when he had been on the ship to Braavos. A huge and wild wolf on the deck would have certainly draw attention.

It drew his mind back to Wulf, even if he truly was a werewolf, he had hidden it well enough. For Tyler had not seen or heard of an _actual_ wolf on the ship.

"What's it, Tyler?" Wulf asked while fingering the olive-skinned girl next to him.

Tyler looked at him, confused, "What?"

"You're brooding. I've never seen you brood, it makes you look like my brother." He said, and for a moment Tyler heard a bitter edge to his voice when he talked about his brother. He did not know much about Wulf's past and he was not much keen to ask him about it, either.

In its stead, he forced a smile to his lips, "I was just thinking of home." It was not entirely a lie, he had been thinking of home. But Mystic Falls probably did not exist in that time yet. He thought about the ruined castle close to the town, it was named Winterfell. Mayhap it was now a castle filled with people. The thought of it made the situation more surreal.

"Europe, huh?" Wulf said. The he turned to his companion, "Tyler here is from Europe. I bet even you haven't sailed that far, Dana?"

Dana giggled, "No, but why would I? King's Landing, White Harbour and Pentos are great ports to make money. I don't need to go so far."

"White Harbour?" Wulf asked with surprise, "When you have Maidenpool, why do you bother with White Harbour?"

"Northerners need more goods, so they pay more money for it." Dana said, "You can never be a merchant." She added.

Wulf laughed, "I would never try, as long as I have _this_ ," he tapped his sword, "I won't need anything else."

Tyler had little doubt that it was true, the sellsword was quite good with his sword and had no problem with cheating from time to time. Even with that little knowledge of swords and sword fighting, Tyler could see how casual Wulf was when he was locked in battle. Not that he had ever seen him in a _real_ combat, but he had once fought with another sellsword on their way from Tyrosh to Braavos.

That night he could not sleep. At least not with those moans of pleasure that came from Wulf's room. So he left the inn to get some fresh air. Outside, the smell of fish greeted him, and the sound of water in the canals. The city was not entirely asleep, but far less swarming than a few hours ago. The moon shone brightly, lighting his way. Looking at it, Tyler found out that tomorrow would be full moon, tomorrow he would see whether Wulf was just a normal human or not. He would have liked him to be a werewolf, this could mean that Tyler was not entirely alone in that world.

He made his way to the docks to find his prey. He easily found one, a smug rubber who was merrily making his way to a ship. He was no doubt a sailor, but a rubber as well. Being rubber meant that he had something of good value in his pockets and Tyler needed some money. The man easily fell to him, he did not even realize what had happened when he died. Tyler emptied his blood and pockets all the same. He had a fat purse of gold within them and some Bravoosi coins. Tyler smirked and put the purse and the coins in his own pocket, before throwing the man into the sea.

It had been hard, killing people who had done no wrong towards him. Even after all the things he had been through, he had only killed those who harmed him or his friends before he was sent back in time. Now, he had to kill normal people, ordinary humans. The least he could do was to find the less-innocent ones. In Tyler's eyes those still could not compare to some certain people he knew, like Klaus and the rest of his family, or Silas or many others in that matter.

The good part was, the thieves were everywhere in Braavos, for it was quite a large and crowded city filled with all sorts of people and cultures. Wulf had shown him different people from Lys, Tyrosh, Summer Isles, Dornishmen and even some few ones from Yi Ti and Leng. Wulf had certainly paid a visit to many of the Free Cities, for he could easily say the differences between a Pentoshi and a Myrish, or say exactly where a ship had come from. Tyler could only identify the swan shaped ships from the Summer Isles.

Loath to go back to the inn, Tyler decided to explore the city itself. He and Wulf had spent the last week mostly close to the docks, and Tyler needed to see what lay _inside_ the city.

It was marvelous, he had seen the buildings -some of them- before, but they had all been half in ruins. Now they stood tall and magnificent before him. The Iron Bank was like an image from an architecture journal about Rome. It stood face-front to one of the largest canals that came to a close right in front of the bank, ending in a magnificent fountain. And the building itself was most likely the largest in the city. It was made of pale and cream-colored stone, with marble columns and pillars.

Then it was the haunting temple-like building, it had a great door, black on the left and white on the right. It was not the largest amongst the temples, yet it was breathtaking. Tyler had seen it in his past and the city's future, he remembered it as the House of Black and White, the home to an infamous brotherhood of assassins. _It's like one of those video games_ , Tyler mused, _it can be an episode of Assassin's Creed._ Thinking of it now, this part of the city looked like a combination of Florence and Venice.

Not far away, was another temple made of red stones, even at night, it was surrounded by thousands of lit candles and torches. Looking at it, Tyler realized that its priests where the most active ones at that hour. They had to be R'hllor's priests that Wulf had grumbled about. "Those red fools with their sorceries, they should've joined the Targaryens to share their love of fire." The Westerosi had once said.

Though they did not look much like the witches Tyler knew of, they were not quite a bunch of fools either. They looked like the way Bonnie looked whenever she had been casting a spell. There were at least eight of them, chanting around a large fire. To his eyes, it looked as if the fire pulsed with the rhythm of their chanting.

After about an hour, he decided to go back, it was near dawn already and he needed some sleep. Finding his way back to the inn was not as easy as he had thought. At first, he made his way through twisting alleys, canals and bridges over them, but then he found himself wandering aimlessly to find the port the inn was placed at. It was a hard job, because Braavos was not only one, but a good collection of large and small islands, most of them with one or two ports.

When he had begun, the sun had not yet raised on the east, but when he finally found himself in a familiar port, it was a good hour past the sunrise. Thankfully, finding the inn was not as hard and took him less than three minutes, which he considered himself lucky for it.

The people inside were still asleep, except for a few sailors whose ships had just docked or were to depart shortly. Tyler wanted to drink some wine or ale, but the tiredness took over him and he went to his small room so he could get some sleep.

It was near the noon when he was startled by Wulf's voice calling his name, "Wake up, Tyler."

He lazily opened one eye and saw the dark-haired sellsword looking down at him. His grey eyes were full of energy and maybe even ready for some mischief. "What's it?" Tyler groaned.

"I was going to tell you that I'll be leaving tonight, or tomorrow, I don't know." He said with a sly grin.

"And?" Tyler asked. He did not want him gone, especially when he so doubted that he could be a werewolf. One more night and he would find out. Then it suddenly struck him, tonight would be the full moon and Wulf was leaving. Was there a connection?

He did not want to ask that directly, so he chose his words carefully, "What's it, afraid of full moon?" He said in a teasing tone. Something hardened in his eyes, something that made Tyler realize he had struck a nerve.

But then it was gone as soon as it came, Wulf laughed, "Why should I? It brightens the sky and lights the way."

"Now you speak like those red priests." Tyler joked, still gazing at his face for any sort of changes, none came.

There was a silence and then Tyler broke it once more, "So, where are you going?"

"Lys," Wulf answered with a smirk, "There are some beautiful ladies waiting for me. And some men for my sword." _Definitely they'll die as soon as you meet them_ , Tyler thought.

He had to do something. Even if Wulf was not what Tyler suspected him to be, he was still a good friend in that weird place. He needed friends to survive. So he decided, "I'm coming with you." He declared.

Wulf scanned his features as if he was some sort of artwork and then chuckled, "I had expected so." He then winked, "Better start packing, pack mate."

 _Pack mate?_ Tyler stood frozen long after Wulf had left him. _He's not only a werewolf but he knows about me, too._

 ** _Stefan:_**

Stefan was enjoying his position as Rhaenys and Oberyn's companion. This world around him was one he liked, without anything _supernatural_. Well, except the fact that he was drawn there _by_ something supernatural.

Still, he liked those Dornish souls whom he had been traveling with. The princess, Rhaenys Targaryen, was somewhat elegant and fierce at the same time. She was a beauty herself, with a skin the color of copper and hair as black as a raven, she had her mother's looks. But her eyes were different, whereas Princess Elia's eyes were dark brown, hers was a dark shade of violet that looked black at times. Her long and dark eyelashes framed her eyes, and her hair fell loose on her shoulders most of the times. She would always dress in her mother's house colors or some other colors. But Stefan had noticed that she avoided Targaryen red and black _consciously_ , besides, she would never wear any sort of Targaryen sigil, unlike her uncle and aunt.

Now he was waiting for her to escort her to a breakfast with her family, both sides of her family, to be exact. Martells and Targaryens had little and less love for one another, and in the past two or three weeks their men had avoided each other just as their lords had. Stefan could see how fragile the peace was between the two houses, if it even _existed_ at all. He doubted that a breakfast would change anything for better, especially in the current situation.

It had been about a week since the raven had come from Winterfell, bringing ominous news with it. Ever since, Rhaenys had refused to leave her room, except for the rare times she gathered her courage to go to godswood. Most of the visitors were not allowed inside, except for her handmaiden and at times, Viserys.

And now she was coming out for the first time in the past days to be in public. Stefan had been sent there by Viserys, he knew that she trusted Stefan and would listen to him if was needed.

When the door finally opened and Rhaenys emerged outside, Stefan had to suck in his breath. Probably for the first time in a long while, she had ignored her rules of not wearing Targaryen colors, and letting her hair loose. Her black locks were all gathered in a bun atop her head, not leaving even one wandering strand off. Her eyes now shone black, the same color as her dress and her hair. And her dress, it was a plain black gown made in King's Landing's latest trends, loose and long sleeves with kimono-like collar. It struck him a second later that it meant more than just wearing her house colors. There was not even a single drop of red in that gown and it was way too simple for Rhaenys. She was wearing mourning colors.

It meant that she had given up. She noticed his long gaze upon her and yet said not a word. Stefan made a warm greeting and a handful of soothing coos. She did not reply to any of them with words, only nodding or shaking her head at times.

When they reached the oaken door of the king's solar, Stefan opened them and let her enter after getting inside himself. Within, everyone had already filled their seats. Tyene and Oberyn Martell on one side and Daenerys on the other. Next to Daenerys sat a young man, no older than eighteen, whom Stefan had seen before with both Daenerys and Viserys, but did not know his name. Alas, they did not introduce him either, assuming that they already knew everyone.

Once Viserys laid eyes upon his niece, his expression darkened, not by anger though, by grief. He had most likely given up long ago, but seeing that the determined princess had also given up was something else. At that moment, even Stefan felt bad about this ill-fated prince.

The tales were many about this one, the younger son of Rhaegar. In Dorne, he was detested along his twin sister and their northern mother, Rhaegar's queen. Technically, Elia Martell would also be considered his queen, for they had no such thing as divorce in here. But none in both King's Landing and Dorne itself called her queen, though for very different reasons. In King's Landing, because they were afraid of Rhaegar's wrath and in Dorne because of Elia's own hatred of being called his wife and queen.

Anyways, here at court, there were only a handful whom actually pitied Aemon. Mostly just ignored the news, some of Rhaegar's lickspittles enjoyed it as well as almost every single Dornishman and woman. There were, in fact, only two who _truly_ grieved the news, Rhaenys and to Stefan's surprise, Viserys. The young prince cared deeply for his nephew, it seemed.

The meal started in relative silence, just like before a great storm. It was not long, however, when Oberyn tore that peace apart. He cast a long look at Rhaenys before saying, "So there's been a raven, huh? The Rhaenys I know doesn't give up this _easy_."

Daenerys became tense and put a hand on Rhaenys's, trying to calm her. It was too late, though. Stefan had expected her to become angry, like the last time, but all he saw were tears. Crystal tears that rolled down her cheeks.

Viserys also attempted to help her, handing her a handkerchief, but she rejected it without even looking. To calm herself, she sipped at the goblet of wine in front of her and held it in her hands.

Whatever little chatter they have had before, it now turned to a deafening silence. Somehow, the situation reminded Stefan of the time when Jeremy had died and Elena had been left to cope with it. There was a different though, Rhaenys had never known her brother. She was doing it all for a brother she had barely met, let alone _known_.

A knock on the door sounded and without waiting for a response, Griffjon rushed inside. In his hand was a piece of parchment, Stefan did not see the sigil on the seal but he saw the black wax.

"Prince Viserys," the Hand addressed the prince formally, "Pycelle just received this, 'tis from Winterfell." His voice bore no sensation, it was void.

"Dark wings, dark words," Daenerys muttered. The saying had become popular over the recent span of days.

Viserys sternly took the parchment from the older man and stared at it for a long moment, heedlessly gesturing for the man to sit. Under the flickering light of the candles and the sunlight that filled the room, Stefan saw the seal fully. It had a dragon on it, though not the three-headed one of the Targaryens, and it was halved with a snarling wolf. More likely, a direwolf. As of to make sure it was real, Viserys ran a finger through the embossed seal, feeling the wolf and the dragon on his fingertips.

All while, everyone else remained oblivious to the seal itself. Even Rhaenys seemed more interested in the context of the letter. However, Stefan caught it, the sigil did not belong to either house Targaryen or house Stark individually, and not to the queen, either. It left only two unlikely possibilities.

When Viserys finally broke the seal and unfolded the parchment, his eyes grew wide. Still, his expression was unreadable as he scanned the letter for at least two or three times. At last, it was Rhaenys who grew impatient, she snatched the letter from her uncle's hands and started reading. A few lines and she let out an audible gasp of surprise.

She looked back to her uncle once finished, "Is it true?" She asked, and then after a pause, "Is it from _him_?"

He did not have to be genius to know what she meant, obviously the letter was from Aemon himself. It could only mean good news. However, Rhaenys looked doubtful and even upset, as if something in the letter bothered her. Viserys was not much better, staring at the parchment in Rhaenys's hand, as if trying to see something invisible on it.

At last, he nodded briefly, "It is his handwriting," Viserys claimed. Stefan noticed that he had not confirmed that the words themselves belonged to Aemon. His choice of words could only mean that he believed Aemon had not written it out of his own free will.

"What's it?" Daenerys asked curiously.

Giving a cautious look to Oberyn, Tyene, Stefan and the other man in the room, Viserys took the letter from his niece and scanned it one more time. It took him several minutes before answering, "Jon is fine and well, apparently the maester managed to save him," he waited enough for the mood to change, and then continued, "But it's not all of it. He claims that something had changed," another cynic look at the outsiders in the room, "Rhaegar had changed." He finished with a deep sigh.

At the mention of the king, Oberyn became tense with a suppressed fury, his daughter put a hand on his arm to calm him. The younger princess's eyes grew wide while her male companion only fixed his gaze upon Viserys. "Changed?" Daenerys finally asked.

"For better," Viserys confirmed, but uncertainly, "It might be his own words, not Jon's." He added.

"At least he's fine," Stefan threw in, reassuring her. Rhaenys smiled a faint yet grateful smile at him while her Dornish uncle only scoffed.

"That's true, thankfully," Viserys smiled as well, "But if it's not his words and actually my brother's..." He left his sentence incomplete, the unfinished threat hanging in the air.

Griffjon Connington had the same dark mood when he spoke up, "We must write to the queen."

"She may not get it," Viserys replied, his meaning clear. If it was the king playing tricks on his brother by controlling the youngest prince, it would not be unlikely for him to have the queen wrapped around his little finger, as well. There was a little chance that Lyanna Stark would actually receive the letter.

"Then we have to wait for more news." Lord Connington offered grimly.

There was not much more to be told, and soon they all left the solar. Stefan leading Rhaenys back to her room. However, she stopped him, "Go to the gardens." She half-ordered and half-offered.

Stefan nodded and led her outside Maegor's Holdfast and to the beautiful gardens of the keep. Once lost in the safety of the trees and bushes around them, Rhaenys spoke up, "What do you think of it?"

It was strange, being asked for his opinion on something he had no clue of. He had never even seen this infamous mad man or his youngest son. In fact, Rhaenys and her aunt and uncle were the only true Targaryens he had ever met, and out of the three, only Rhaenys was close to him. However, he collected his thoughts and answered her, "It can be fake, true, but what if it isn't? What if he's actually sane now?"

Rhaenys thought for a while, apparently the possibility had been far off her mind to take notice of it. Even when she spoke, she shook her head, "It's impossible."

"Why? It makes perfect sense, think about it," he insisted, "He feels guilty about what had happened to your brother because he thinks it had been his fault. After all, it was your brother's duel with the traitor that weakened him."

"You say it's true?" She was still doubtful.

"I have little doubt that it is. Mad men usually don't want to even acknowledge that they're mad. If it's truly your father's words and not Aemon's, then he is not as mad as we think him to be, rather calculating." Stefan had little to no experience with such psychological issues, but he used his little knowledge to conclude. To himself, it looked pretty possible that Rhaegar had changed. Rhaenys had once told her that Rhaegar had been a moral man before the war, and then he went mad. It somehow reminded Stefan of his own problems whenever he turned off his humanity switch. Sure the guy was not a vampire, but humans could experience such things as well, could they not?

"If you say so," Rhaenys responded with a faint smile, "I believe in your judgment, Stefan."


	21. Red

**Chapter Twenty-one: Red**

 **Notes:** Happy new year everyone! Enjoy the first _2016_ chapter! ;)

 **Lyanna:**

Lyanna sighed as she got up from her chair. The day had been boring, with no company from either her children or her ladies. The former had been scattered through the castle, and the latter she had dismissed in her dour mood.

She was worried for everyone in her family, though their new situation seemed a lot better than before, she was not happy. Jon could barely be seen outside his chamber, and in fact, Lyanna had not even talked to him for three days now. Rhaegar had also locked himself in his rooms, refusing to see her. He gave no reasons for it but Arthur believed it was out of shame.

Even her more joyful children had been acting strangely as of late, Aegon spent his days in the training yard or riding outside the walls of Winterfell. Though Lyanna actually doubted that it was the full truth, she knew Aegon better than he thought she did, and she could say exactly when he was lying and why he was doing so. Despite having not even a single drop of Stark blood in his veins, Aegon strongly reminded her of Brandon. He was just as wild, playful, gallant and bawdy, each of those aspects came to life in different situations as they befitted him. Lyanna had never seen his bawdy side, but she was sure of its existence.

And lastly came Nym, she was the most strange one during the past week. She looked as if she was avoiding everyone and surprisingly spent her time with Sansa. Strangely enough, she seemed to dodge the boys, whenever Aegon got close to her she made an excuse and disappeared. The same applied to Robb, Theon Greyjoy and Jeremy Gilbert. Though the two latter ones were more favored than their priors.

Lyanna wondered what had changed, while not having their awful problems anymore, each and every one of them was abandoned in their own ways. She had to end it, but she did not know how.

It took her a while before she finally gathered all her courage and willpower to get up and make her way to Rhaegar's chambers. Ser Balon and Arthur were guarding outside, as alarmed as ever. The Swann knight's expression did not change, but Arthur raised a brow at her. When none of them moved to let her in, she frowned, "Can I see the king?" She asked impatiently.

Balon Swann intentionally reverted his gaze from her, leaving Arthur to deal with her. Arthur cast her a long look, trying to refuse her silently, but she won that game of stares, and Arthur sighed, "Wait here, your grace." He stiffly said before going inside the room.

Rudely, he closed the door behind, so Lyanna did not hear whatever sentences that had been traded between the Kingsguard and her husband. When Arthur come back, his face was still forbidding, yet he let her in.

Inside, it was everything but a room that would befit Rhaegar. Looking around, she saw a true mess of different things, and amidst it all, Rhaegar was hunched on a seat close to the window. His pale hair was tangled in a mess as it ran loose on his shoulders, covering his face in a veil of silver. She realized that she had not seen him since that night by Jon's bedside. He looked as if he had forgotten his physical existence, the always neat and tidy Rhaegar was now a shell of the man he was. It was even worse than those times when he was completely lost in his madness, or that day when he was poisoned.

"Rhaegar," she softly murmured, afraid of startling him.

He was not, however, disconcerted, and it took him like ages to finally look up and meet her gaze. His eyes were dim and feverish at the same time, begging silently. His face was colorless and expressionless both.

"You shouldn't be here," he spoke up, his voice throaty and untried of not talking for a long time.

Lyanna felt a burning lump in her throat, he was so miserable and heart-breaking at the moment. "I very well can," she put steel to her voice, "I am your wife, after all."

That only seemed to bewilder him even further, " _Please_ , just leave." He nearly pleaded.

She shook her head disobediently, "I will not. I won't leave until you actually talk to me."

Her words seemed to work in opposite, for he grew silent once more, turning back to stare out the window.

"Rhaegar, please," it was her turn to beseech now, "Talk to me." She was getting desperate with him.

No answer came, but she could see that he fluttered his eyes shut, as if in pain. She had seen this before, once upon a _very_ long time ago, the day he told her of her father and brother's fates. He was tormenting himself with whatever thoughts he had.

"Stop it," she finally commanded, fierce but not unkindly, "Stop brooding and talk to me."

She went forward, mindless of the scattered objects around her, and blocked his view, hands clasped in front of her, waiting for his answer.

He looked up at her like a defiant boy. But this defiant boy had eyes full of shame and unshed tears. When she did not give up, he sighed, just like the way Arthur had a short while ago.

"Fine," he whispered, more to himself than her. "What do you have me say, Lyanna? I failed you, I _hurt_ you. How can I bring myself to talk to you, now?" He asked, eager to be turned down. _He wants me to hate him,_ she realized, _he wants me to blame him and accuse him for it._

 _How can I do it when I love him?_

"You saved me from Robert," she started, her tone mild, "And rode to war for me, you avenged my father and Brandon's deaths. You did not fail me." She said nothing of the years in between, of the times that most certainly were now haunting Rhaegar.

But he did not fail to notice that, "And what of afterwards? I sent Elia and Rhaenys off, and my own siblings. I rejected my son and _abused_ you." His voice was weak at first, and there was a self-hatred in it, but by the time he was finished, he was nearly shouting, "All because of that damned prophecy!" He choked on his own sob, highly unlikely of him.

Lyanna composed herself and shakily reached for his hand, the hand that once had been strong and full of life. It was now cold and felt like a pile of crumbling bones under her touch, like the hand of an old man. "And a vile man who did this to you." She softly added.

" _I_ did this to myself," Rhaegar said, firmly.

His hand was now truly shaking beneath her palm, in a white rage. Even looking at him made her heart ache. Everyone still agreed that he was handsome, but she saw behind that first impression. He had once been ethereally beautiful. Now his eyes had dimmed and his face was nothing but bone and skin. His lips were withered and his strong body had lost its strength. He was more like a man twenty years his elder, like a version of his father, though still more beautiful and bearable. And his fingers, oh his fingers, they had once been long and lean, playing those beautiful tunes for her, now they were crooked like animal claws.

"Rhaegar," she started.

He did not let her finish, "Leave me be, Lyanna. I beg you." He said, pulling his hand away.

She saw that the longer she tried, the worse he became, thus she obeyed. The sight of him had left her too shaken to even object further, and the look in his eyes was unbearable for her. She felt his heavy gaze upon her back as she made her way outside his bedchamber.

Arthur most likely read her features to know what had happened, though mayhap Rhaegar's shouts had also helped. "Your grace," he said, "Allow me to escort you."

Ser Balon seemed unaware of anything, or he was hiding it well. He only nodded at his sworn brother and let him leave with Lyanna.

Once in her room, Arthur looked at her with worry, "I told you it wasn't wise to see him now." His tone told her that it was not good for her, not Rhaegar.

And he was right, she had to admit. "He looked so... _fragile_." She muttered.

Arthur fixated her with a sympathetic look, "He's woken up of a trance that had lasted for fourteen years. Anyone would be like this if they had done what he has," he took a deep breath, "And he's Rhaegar. He forgives everyone but himself, forgets everything but his own wrongs."

That was, sadly, true. Lyanna knew this melancholic side of her husband well enough, but never before had that melancholy been mixed with such a heavy guilt. It was not that she did not blame him at all, she did. But the point was that he had had no control over his thoughts, no control on who he was.

And that prophecy, it had doomed them all. The three heads of his dragon sprouted one extra head, an unwanted prince, she thought to herself. She had given him his Visenya, but an Aemon as well. Jon is the bane of his life while he is the joy of mine, it was ironic in some ways.

But her thoughts sent her back to Rhaegar, to the man he had become. Of course, she had seen him many a time in his aged look, but this time it had been different. All those years she had felt like living with someone other than the Rhaegar she once knew, but now that Rhaegar had come back, in the body of the mad dragon king. It has to be his punishment, she mused, being trapped in this body with the memories of his sins.

She realized that Arthur was eyeing her worriedly, she had been so lost in her thoughts that it had frightened him. "What do you suggest?" She asked.

Arthur took a moment to think on it, "Normally, I would say that leave him be until it passes. But this time, I don't think it would pass on its own. We need to do something about him before he hurts himself in one way or another."

"What do you mean?" She asked sharply.

Arthur leveled her with a look, "You're not the only person he refuses to see, Lyanna. He does not let us or any other servant enter his rooms, whatever little food I have forced him to eat is not enough. He declines to meet everyone and I doubt he has a sound sleep at nights. It is not good for his health, especially now." He explained. "I try to take the most possible shifts to guard him, but even then, I cannot see what he is doing inside that room. I'm worried, because in his state, he is capable of doing the most foolish things."

Lyanna did not want to think of those foolish things at all. But the horrible images flooded to her mind, like torturing visions. Was that window of his room close to the ground enough? Was it small enough? Did it even matter if he had a sharp blade in his chambers?

Suddenly she was not just sad, she was worried sick. "Post more guards, Arthur. Four, at the very least. If you hear any unusual sounds, don't hesitate." She urged him.

"I will," he solemnly replied, "I'll keep my eyes and ears open, and take the best of Kingsguard with myself."

Despite his calming tone, she could see that if Rhaegar truly intended to do anything unwise, there was nothing all those fine knights could do. Absolutely nothing.

 _ **The Broken Dragon:**_

 _The laughter of the children filled the room. They were all there, laughing and teasing. Even Elia and Lyanna were chatting happily. It made him feel left out, they were enjoying their time without him. How could they?_

 _He could hear Rhaenys and Visenya's giggles mingling with Aegon's loud laughter. Aemon was also there, giggling as well. Foolish boy, he thought, he doesn't deserve to be with them. He quickened his pace, forcing the old Gerold Hightower follow him. He could not comprehend one more second, letting them enjoy their time, without him._

 _Once he opened the door to the nursery, the laughter died away, at least those of his wives. Six pairs of eyes stared at him, each with a different color. The sudden grave silence only added to his anger, did they think him an idiot?_

 _It was his youngest daughter who broke the spell. Visenya flung herself at him in a way he only saw a flurry of black hair lunging at him. He managed to hold her still just in time and pick her up, holding her light figure in his arms. She giggled once more, unaware of the grim mood around her. "Father!" She exclaimed._

 _He smiled at her, his Visenya. She loved him, unlike that other ungrateful girl, she loved her father. Soon, Aegon joined her, forcing him to put her daughter down so he could catch the boy. He put her back to the ground and looked around the room. Rhaenys seemed totally ignorant of him, he meant to give her a lesson in greeting the king in the best way when he noticed someone tugging at his legs. Having just snatched Aegon from the ground, he wondered who it was._

 _He instantly pulled away when he found out who it was. That black haired boy had thought himself worthy of his attention. The filthy little monster, he thought angrily._

 _"Father," Aemon said, his voice as eager as Visenya's had been, but much quieter._

 _He did not bother to look at him, "Get off me, boy." He ordered._

 _The little idiot looked at him dumbly before crawling back to his mother's embrace._ Good, let him learn to respect his king.

 _Lyanna looked up at him with disdain and incredulity in her eyes, soon followed by a much more displeased Elia. He ignored them and turned his attention back to his son._

 _However, while in his hands, he murmured into his hair, "Why didn't you hug Jon?" His boyish voice was innocent._

 _Rhaegar pulled him away instantly, looking square in his eyes, "Do not talk of him." He commanded, feeling content when Aegon did not continue._

 _Looking back at his wives, who were now comforting Aemon -as if he needed comfort- he knitted his brows in a frown. "Should you not greet your king?" He demanded._

 _Lyanna acknowledged him with a look while Elia did not even bother to look up._ That idiot Dornish princess thinks her place is far higher than mine _, he though with anger._

 _He was about to unleash his anger at the ignorant woman when someone tugged at his feet once more. Looking down, he saw Visenya's big grey eyes looking at him, "Play with us, Father." She begged._

 _He wanted to shout at her and tell her that the dragon did not play like foolish children, but the look in her eyes was so intolerable. Visenya,_ his _Visenya, could not be denied anything. But it was only her and her brother that he wanted to grant their wishes, so he dismissed the rest of them. Rhaenys did not say anything as she followed her mother outside of the room, but Aemon looked wistful in Lyanna's arms._ Ungrateful boy!

 _His brother was coming, his fool stupid brother was coming back to the capital, with the girl. He had strictly ordered him to not set foot there again with that vile girl. The foul monster who had killed the late queen with her birth. She was like the rest of them, a horrid ungrateful creature, just like Rhaenys and the boy Aemon. Worst of all, Viserys had not even bothered to inform him of his arrival. Only when his ship had docked, the king had been told._

 _Connington insisted on sending a party to greet the prince and princess. How dare he suggest that the girl was a princess?_

 _"They can go back to their castle for all I care," he spat, "Not that they are grateful for even being permitted to live there. I could have given them Summerhall and still did them a favor."_

 _"Your grace," Connington started, "They are your siblings, if his grace do not greet them as such, people will talk."_

 _"People!" He sneered, "The dragon doesn't care for lowly people." Nor could it be treated in the way that Connington was treating him. He kept it to himself, though, for he was still much better than those fools in his council, or out there in their castles. Tywin Lannister, for one, was amongst those fools who thought himself capable of accompanying a dragon. As if his son's sins could be easily forgotten. The Wall had been a mercy to Jaime Lannister, the turncloak and oathbreaker who had killed the previous king, Rhaegar's father._

 _He turned back his mind to the present day, when he would soon have to confront his idiot of a brother. Connington was still droning over how he should show some affection for his siblings and such. The man bored him, "Stop it at once, Connington." He barked at his Hand._

 _He was wise enough to shut his mouth. Which was good, otherwise he would have ended up like Ilyn Payne. Maybe he could even be his headsman afterwards, though Payne would not be happy about it._

 _Alas, not long after when he had finally shut up, another flea came into the room. It was one Lewyn Martell, announcing the arrival of his siblings. Rhaegar immediately frowned at the Kingsguard, "Tell them I'm busy. Have the queen tend to whatever they need." It was a good thing, handing them to his wife. She would surely find a way to pull them into her net of broken people, where she kept her precious son._

 _He did not attend the supper that his wife had planned. He could deal with Viserys, but the girl was another matter. He despised being in the same room with that kinslayer._

 _It was a week when he finally agreed to meet Viserys. Soon, his brother would have a lesson in obeying his king. The arrogant boy thought he could ignore his strict orders and bring the girl to King's Landing, to his court._

 _Viserys entered his solar with a stiff bow, not one befitting to honor his king, "Brother," his tone was just as stiff and cold, "I hope you had not been ill, we had not seen you since we came here."_

 _Rhaegar regarded him with a glower, "Maybe I have been so. The presence of our filthy sister is enough to make me feel so." His brother did not reply. "I had given you my strict orders that she is not to leave Dragonstone, much less to come here and humiliate me in front of all the court."_

 _"She is not humiliating you in anyways," Viserys finally made to answer, "Have you even seen her?" He did not wait for answer, "No, of course you haven't. She is a sweet girl, brother, a true Targaryen beauty. And she is innocent by all accounts, do not insult her."_

 _"Oh? Is she? I recall her killing our mother when she came out of her womb." He replied, "She is a monster that killed our mother while being born. For all I care, she can drown herself in the Narrow Sea while she's in Dragonstone, I would not have her here." He said._

 _"She is our sister!" Viserys bellowed, "And if you were not this ignorant of the world outside your precious royal mind, you would have seen it for yourself." He laughed bitterly, "Oh, but no, the dragon should not bother himself with these matters. It should tear the kingdoms apart, the way his father did. Maybe one day you'll end up like him, our father. Or worse, like Maegor. You recall him, don't you, brother? Maegor the Cruel they called him. Maybe someday they'll find your lifeless body upon..."_

 _He did not get to finish, the little brat. Rhaegar slapped him with fury building within him. "You shouldn't have said that," he roared, "You've awoken the dragon."_

 _Despite his obvious pain, Viserys looked at him with disgust, "You're not the dragon I once knew. That one used to be gentle with us and had a love for everything serene." He said before leaving the solar. Rhaegar could only quake with anger as he did so._

 _How dared he compare his fate to that of Maegor's? Was he threatening him about something he knew would happen? Did he mean that he was plotting to overthrow him?_

 _He was suddenly afraid for his life. Who would protect him if someone was truly plotting against him? Most of the kings relied upon their Kingsguard, but Rhaegar was not the most. After his father had been betrayed and slain by his own Kingsguard, Rhaegar had little to no trust in them. Any of them could just stab him in the back without a second thought. Maybe he should dismiss them all, especially Lewyn. He had very good reasons to hate him, after all, he was the uncle of his Dornish wife whom Rhaegar had sent away. Maybe he ought to replace them with loyal men to his house, or even some foreigners. Foreigners had no allegiance within the Seven Kingdoms and would stay loyal to him._

 _But then again, by dismissing his Kingsguard, he would set seven mighty warriors loose in his realms, who would most likely seek revenge. He would have to keep them content if he wished to live._

 _The Kingsguard did not matter now, first he had to get rid of Viserys. He was a boy, true, but a dangerous one at that. As long as he was away in Dragonstone, he would not plot against Rhaegar. Aye, he had to keep him there._

 _He was content, finally being able to get rid of that useless boy. He thought he could get away with poisoning him, the little shit. Aemon would pay for what he had done with fire and blood. Aye, he would die screaming, pleading for mercy, as the flames consumed him whole. What a pleasant sight would it be._

 _During the first day after being poisoned, he had pleased himself with the mere thought of it, and now it would become true. He planned to execute him right after the trial, the look on Lyanna's face would certainly be pleasing. Besides, he wanted to see Aemon let his feelings loose. The boy, recklessly, had no feeling, he would never get angry or cry with fear. His face was always a calculating mask of ice, betraying no emotion. Even his voice was a hollow one, as quiet as an assassin trying to hide his tracks. Now, he had made a mistake by poisoning Rhaegar. A mistake that would cost him his life, a fatal mistake for himself and a welcome one for Rhaegar._

 _The trial began, making him more and more pleased by each passing moment. When Aegon came and summoned his own witness, Rhaegar was truly pleased. Aemon would now see that even his brother held no love for him._

 _But then Damon Salvatore ruined everything. He could no longer see the boy burn. Obviously that impulsive knight was the man who had poisoned him. It would not be wise to call Aemon guilty. Even the dragon had to care for what the lowly people thought, at some points._

 _When the man dared to ask him a trial by combat, he wanted to refuse and burn him on the spot, in a trial by fire. However, Aemon decided to make himself a lickspittle by volunteering to fight Arrec Bracken._

 _What a joyful moment it would be, seeing him fail miserably in a fight with some lowly knight._

 _"No," Lyanna wheezed._

 _The look on her face was precious, but nothing compared to when she would see her soon dead, beaten to a bloody pulp by some unknown knight._ Tomorrow, _he thought,_ tomorrow I will see it all.

His head swirled with all those memories. The last one hurt all the worse. He could have had sent his son to an early grave and enjoyed every moment of it.

It had been a week since he had closed the door and locked himself inside his bedchambers. He felt an overwhelming guilt and shame on the account of what he had done during the past fourteen years. He had always hated his father for being the mad king he was and he had become even worse than him. He had become the very same man he had once tried to overthrow because of the madness that had invaded the realm.

Rhaegar ran a hand through his hair, unaware of the tangles that blocked his way. Lyanna had just left him with a new pang of feelings to deal with. How could she still want him? After all he had done to her and her family, she still stood by his side, no matter what. Not until a few days ago he had realized what she had done, the great burden she had carried without a single complain.

He realized that he was shuddering in his chair, filled with self-hatred and tears that would not fall. The window he had been looking out of it, seemed like a frame for him that he could see his misdeeds inside it. He no longer saw the grey stone walls of Winterfell and the woods outside it, all he saw was people who had suffered because of him.

The door creaked and opened, but he did not dare to look upon whoever that had entered. Soft footsteps followed, and within a second, he saw Arthur's white cloak in front of himself. He had come to him more than once in the past days, and yet Rhaegar had not even spoken to him. Even when he came in to announce Lyanna's presence, he had only nodded his agreement to see her, which had been a mistake, for Lyanna had been way too gentle with him.

Every time, Arthur would try to soothe him or get him to eat something, anything. But to no avail. Rhaegar could not bring himself to even look him into the eyes. Alas, his old friend would not give up. Rhaegar was aware that it was mostly Arthur who had guarded his chambers during the last week, he could hear his voice talking to his sworn brothers from time to time.

"You should eat something, Rhaegar." Arthur said, firmly.

He winced and shook his head defiantly, yet did not say a word. A cold gust of wind came through the window and made him shudder all the worse. Sadly, Arthur saw that movement and narrowed his eyes in worry. He walked to Rhaegar's bed and came back with a thin yet warm blanket. Rhaegar wanted to protest as the knight laid it on his lap, making it so that it would warm him by some. However, he did not say anything, still afraid of speaking.

Arthur did not leave even when Rhaegar was safely covered in the warmth of the blanket. He stood behind him, to do what, Rhaegar did not know. Finally the Kingsguard spoke up, "You should leave that chair and get some sleep in your actual bed." He advised, so firmly that left no place for further argument. At that moment, it was the king who obeyed his sworn shield.

He gripped the hands of the chair and pulled himself to his feet, probably leaving it for the first time in at least four days. But his limbs had grown weak and numb, so he fell back to his chair with a groan.

Arthur was immediately by his side, concern written on his features. "Here, let me help you," he said as he stretched his hands to hold Rhaegar.

It was shameful, the way Arthur carried him to the bed like a babe. But there was no way he could make it there on his own feet, he could barely even feel them. His head swam like he was underwater and his eyes failed to see anything without the added element of haze, everything seemed too flurry to him.

Arthur then handed him a cup which he had not seen lying on the table. He paid no mind to its content, hopefully it was some sort of poison that would kill him silently. It was ridiculous, where had _that_ thought come from?

Whatever it was, it was sweet and warm, like a relief washing over him. But it doubled his numbness and before he could even utter a word, his head had fallen to his pillow, soundly asleep.

His sleep, however, was not sound and undisturbed. It was a fitful combination of past events and meaningless visions. He dreamt of Trident, where Robert Baratheon had managed to send him flying from his horse with his warhammer. The Stormlander had died soon afterwards, due to his wounds. But he had had the mercy of somewhat a clean death, where Rhaegar's wound had been more subtle with deeper effects, a torture for both himself and his family.

But the Battle of Trident was just the best part of it, after that came the horrible visions. First it was just a memory, his father burning a petty criminal alive in the Great Hall. Aerys laughed pitilessly at the man's shrieks while Rhaegar had to watch with disgust. Suddenly it was no longer Aerys who was sitting on the Iron Throne, Rhaegar saw himself. And the burning man was no longer some unknown criminal. Through the flames, he saw a familiar figure, one that refused to give out a single scream, even though in obvious agony. He watched helplessly as he saw himself laugh, just the way Aerys had done. Finally, a shrill shriek of anguish escaped his son's mouth and it was the last sound he made. After that it was only fire and the disturbing smell of burnt flesh. While his dream-version laughed, he watched with horror.

Then, mercifully, the scene changed. But not for the better. This time he saw an army of corpses, half of them no more than animated bones. Some of them had rotten flesh and some were just freshly-dead corpses. He saw not much of their details, for he was somehow soaring above them, like a bird. The corpses were marching through a land of snow and ice, in a bone-chilling cold. Some of them wore furs and scraps of wool while some others had black cloaks of the Night's Watch. There were men, women, and even dead children amongst them. Around them, fog and mist covered the ground, and above them snowflakes fell to the ground.

There were flashes as well, some that disappeared so fast that he could barely see them. A castle was on fire, a village burnt down to nothing but ashes, a bloodied raven looking down at a battlefield. A blood-red thorny rose cut a lioness, thorny veins strangling a white wolf, a dragon was ripped apart by the creatures of darkness. He saw a viper biting a dragon and bringing it to its knees, a dark grey direwolf sat at the foot of a gigantic statue, with a black wolf by his side, a single purple falling star brightened the sky above them.

He woke up in cold sweat, the sky outside was a deep blue, right before the dawn. It was warm, despite the wind that howled outside. The source of that warmth was a fire that danced in the hearth, casting long flickering shadows on the walls.

It took him some long moments to recover from his dreams and come back to the bitter reality, one that was heavily placed on his shoulders. Every moment of his nightmare was swimming in front of his eyes. Every time he blinked, he saw Jon burning alive while he laughed at him.

He had made the kingdom bleed during the war and even afterwards. By afterwards, he did not only mean Greyjoy's Rebellion, rather his own reign as a king. He had mercilessly executed people for little crimes, burnt most of them alive. Some of them had been no more than eavesdroppers, some gossiping folks who had dared to talk against him. He had let lesser lords fight with each other over pieces of lands, and had sat aside and enjoyed their petty fights and quarrels. And all while, he had suspected his own family members instead of those other lords who sought power. He had let servile men inside his court and enjoyed their company while they stirred his thoughts against his brother or anyone else they saw fit. He had made a horrible display of a king, mixing Maegor the Cruel with Aegon the Unworthy and his own father, the Mad King. He could only wonder what would they call him once he was dead, mayhap Rhaegar the Vicious, or Rhaegar the Monstrous.

 _"I don't care for dying as long as I see Aegon instead of you upon the throne."_ Lyanna had told him once, when she had held a dagger at his throat.

It was most likely true, Aegon would make a prominent king, much better than Rhaegar himself. He was quite able with the arts of ruling and fighting both, where Rhaegar was beyond hopeless in both. One day, he might have been better, but now the time and madness had washed over him and took his abilities with itself.

Even if he had regained his sanity, he knew he could never get over his past. What could he do when he could not even bring himself to talk to his wife, or leave his chambers? He doubted he could ever leave those chambers or have a proper talk with Lyanna, less so to rule a kingdom. Now he was Rhaegar the Unwilling, a king who hated being one.

His nightmares kept repeating themselves in his mind, he could hear Jon's final scream so clearly that he doubted it was not real. Maybe Jon was actually screaming now. He could hear Robert Baratheon's voice just as clearly, and the ringing sound of his warhammer when it hit his helmet.

His eyes flickered to the jeweled dagger that lay on the floor, where he had most likely thrown it in his blind rage a week ago. The rubies on its hilt glittered under the light that came from the hearth, reflecting the flames. The rubies were the color of blood, and it reminded him to much of it, like trickling droplets of blood.

He got up from his bed, his legs still shaky and unsteady. His stomach hurt from days of not eating anything, and his head from his restless sleep. He had to support his weight on the bedposts and almost crawl.

Someone had ridden him of his clothes and all he now wore was a woolen black tunic. The same person had tried to clean up the mess as well, but with little to no succession. Only a few pieces of garment had been put back into the closet and he noticed that his sword and other dagger were missing, as if someone had tried to keep the blades away from him. The jeweled dagger was still there only because it was half-hidden under a fur-trimmed cloak.

He crawled his way to the dagger and took it with his right hand, which hurt less than his left. The blade was sharp, it cut his palm as if it was butter. As a thin line of blood trickled to his wrist, he once more took notice of how red the rubies were. His own blood was much brighter than the rubies, and he could not help but to think that maybe a good amount of blood would be able to match the color of the rubies.


	22. Manos, Huesos, y Sangre

**Chapter Twenty Two: Manos, Huesos, Y Sangre**

 **Notes:** Hello folks! I just wanted to note that the chapter title is Spanish for Hands, Bones, and Blood, and it's a song by Tish Hinojosa (in her song she has translated it as Crumbling Hands, Bones, and Blood) it's a great song and I most definitely recommend it to everyone.

 _ **Arthur:**_

Arthur was shaken, during his role as a member of Kingsguard, he had never once seen his king so weak, even not Aerys. He had not noticed that until he went to Rhaegar the second time that day. The way he had shivered like an old man had left Arthur distressed. And then, when he had seen him hobble and fall back to his chair, he had decided to carry him to his bed. It had made him feel sick, he was as light as a small boy.

Rhaegar who had used to beat him in the tourney grounds and training yard, was now as light as a feather, nothing but a scrap of bones and skin. Arthur felt as if he would break under the most tender of touches.

It's just the hard week he'd had, he tried to reassure himself, he'll get better after some sleep. And thus he gave him the potion he had got from Maester Luwin, the old maester has said that it was a mixture of Milk of Poppy and Sweetsleep. Hopefully Rhaegar would have a sound sleep for a while which would clear his mind.

He had promised Lyanna to send Rhaegar to bed and then get some sleep himself. "You'd be needing your wits when we confront him." She had said.

Thus, Arthur left his king under the care of four of his sworn brothers, Gerold, Barristan, Oswell and Lewyn had all been posted outside the king's chambers, with sharpened senses to protect their king.

When it came to Rhaegar's protection, he was the leader of the Kingsguard instead of Gerold, for they all knew and respected his loyalty and friendship to the king. Though the latter had been renounced by Rhaegar years ago. Yet, it was Arthur who scheduled which one of the knights would be guarding the king, not Gerold.

He went to bed with a sickening worry. He felt so bad for drugging Rhaegar when he was so weak and then leaving him alone. Maybe he should have had stayed vigil with his brothers and protected the king from both himself and possible other threats. However, he needed his sleep for what was to come and he was worn-out, he had been guarding Rhaegar's chambers for at least one full day without as much as eating something or taking a short nap.

That night he slept with one eye open, ready to jump out of the bed and fight at any moment.

When he finally woke up shortly before the dawn, he was unable to lull himself to sleep once more. It was alright, though, for he had had enough sleep. He pushed himself back to his feet, dressed and put Dawn into its scabbard. He made his way to Rhaegar's chambers, where the rest of his brothers stood vigil. All of whom dutifully alert and with one hand on the hilts of their swords.

Gerold frowned upon his arrival, "You were supposed to get some rest. It's not even dawn yet."

Arthur shook his head, "I couldn't sleep well," he paused as he heard a creaking sound from within the chambers. "Is he awake yet?" He asked, a brow raised in confusion. The potion must have had kept him asleep for at least a day, not just half a day.

His hand unconsciously went to the dagger he had taken from Rhaegar's room. The sword was in his own bedchambers, safely tucked away. He ought not to be so worried, yet he was. There was the sound of some rustling. His patience wore thin, and he silently gestured for his sworn brothers to follow him.

Ser Barristan pushed the door open. At first, everything seemed right into place, until Arthur turned to the darker corner of the room. Rhaegar was not in his bed, instead, his broken figure was on the floor, his eyes had been shut in agony, his face twitched in a grimace.

It was only then that he looked down at his body, there was a dagger in his hands, and not much further above, streaks of blood had stained his clothes and then the stone floor beneath his body. The dark red liquid matched the rubies on the dagger's hilt, a fearful sight.

Arthur was too stunned to move, crippled by his own fear. What had Rhaegar done? Lyanna had warned him against this, but Arthur had not truly believed Rhaegar to go this far. Besides, he had failed to see the jeweled dagger, and had left Rhaegar with a blade. He had picked up every single sharp object, including the kitchen knives, and transferred them outside. But that had not been enough.

It was Ser Barristan, Oswell and Lewyn who rushed to their king, while Gerold went to fetch the maester. Meanwhile, Arthur was frozen by all accounts, he was still standing not far away from the door. He was, for the most part, angry of himself for leaving Rhaegar alone, and then scared for the life of his king.

Fortunately enough, Rhaegar seemed still conscious, for he slurred something Arthur did not get. He finally broke out of his trance and went to his side, brushing the other knights away. Rhaegar's ivory skin had now turned a frightening white due to the loss of blood. His eyes were half-open and glassy, their indigo looked as black as night.

In contrast to his white skin, were the red streaks of blood that flowed from his palm and arm, soaking his tucked sleeve in blood.

His eyes fluttered to where Arthur knelt, and they got even darker if possible, "I missed." His voice was no more than a barely audible whisper, but even that was laced with pain, not only physical, but emotional as well.

At first Arthur did not get his meaning, but when the king's eyes flickered to his wrist, he realized. He had missed his wrist and in its stead, had cut his arm. To Arthur, the amount of blood, however, was still too much. He wondered how much blood could he have lost if he had cut his wrist.

Ignorant of Rhaegar's unwillingness, he crept closer to him and laid his friend's head onto his lap to have him in a more comfortable stance. Rhaegar whimpered in protest, but Arthur hushed him with his finger. Still, the gravely wounded king did not seem pleased by their efforts to help him. No wonder, Arthur thought, he wanted to kill himself, after all.

It took like forever for the maester to arrive, with Gerold at his heels. Then he ordered for Rhaegar to be put back to his bed, an action that Arthur had not yet done, afraid that he would hurt Rhaegar furthermore. As Oswell stepped forward to aid him, Arthur refuse his help. Having carried Rhaegar not a day before, he knew how weightless he was, he did not need Oswell's help to carry him to his bed.

He put Rhaegar beneath the furs of his bed. The bed sheets had been clean, yet it did not take long before they, too, were red with blood. It reminded him of the time not long ago, when Jon had been gored by that bastard, Bracken. Both father and son had a taste for suicidal actions. _They have more in common than they can imagine,_ he assumed.

The door to the king's chambers was left open, yet Lewyn and Barristan were sent to guard it from without, while Arthur stayed inside with Gerold and Oswell.

A whimpering noise drew his, and everyone else's, attention to the doorway. To his wonder, it was Ghost, Jon's direwolf, standing there. It looked as if he had come there to help his master's father.

He came inside and gracefully made his way to the king's bedside, and then stopped there. Arthur could swear that there was a sadness to his eyes, mixed with bewilderment. The elegant white direwolf bent his head in despair, or what he thought was out of despair. He had a suspicion that these direwolves could understand everything they came across, and were as intelligent as men.

Finally, Ghost sat down next to the bed, and when Oswell tried to shoo him, he only glared back and refused to move even the slightest. Oswell tried again, but Arthur put a hand on the younger knight's shoulder, "Leave him be." He murmured.

 _ **The Silent One:**_

 _He made his way through the semi-dark corridors. There was only a handful of candles here and there, with no sign of actual torches. Nonetheless, his eyes had no trouble finding his path. Fluidly he moved up the stairs, without much of a complication. Then, he came across his master's door, but it was not his destination. He did not wish to wake him up when he could do nothing._

 _Instead, he followed the distant sounds and then the light that filled the corridor through the door. The door was open and the room smelled of blood, thick fresh blood. He wondered how long it would take the Dark Raven to smell it through the thick walls of the tower. And even when he would come, he did not know whether the hunter would help or hunt. Due to his nature, the latter was more likely to happen._

 _Before him stood two alert men in white armor and cloaks. They looked down at him with astonishment and doubt, the second mostly coming from the White Viper. He could smell dubiousness from both and waited until it faded by some. Then he attempted to cross the doorway and thankfully, they did not stop him._

 _Inside, the smell of blood was even more intense, and it was everywhere. From the dark flagstones to the fur-covered bed, it was all stained with red liquid. The amount of it had drawn him there at the first place, it had drawn him out of his slumber and then to the tower._

 _He went closer, to his bedside, where he lay in agony. He could sense that his agony was not because of being injured, but for he was not dead yet. He could read the man's thoughts, the primary sense of guilt that had invaded his mind. Guilt and sorrow both._

 _There was no sign of unleashed fury that had used to be there, nor the happiness he had never experienced. It was a void and hollow space filled with only a single emotion, and its shades._

 _Outside, the sky was turning a blend of pale pink and blue. Realizing that it would not finish anytime soon, he sat by the bed. He refused to leave when a white-cloaked man tried to shoo him. The other man spoke up, the White Star, "Leave him be." He said._

 ** _Jon:_**

Jon woke up with a start. Never before had his wolf dreams been so vivid, maybe except the time when he had been near death. The cool morning breeze brushed against his bare skin. The sky was the same shade of pink and blue that had been in his dreams. Somehow, it stirred a feeling inside him, a worrying knot that grew bigger by that notion. He had to make sure, just in case. Thus, he pulled himself out of the bed and groggily made his way to his closet. He pulled out a simple tunic and a pair of woolen breeches. Hastily, he got into them, leaving the tie loose. _There's no need to dress fully,_ he reassured himself _, I'd be coming back just as soon as I go._

He hurried off his chambers, continuing down the hallway and then up the stairs. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the flickering light at the end of the corridor, it was the same as in his dream, almost. _I'm just being stupid_ , he thought to himself. That thought did little to calm him, and he was completely unnerved when he saw Prince Lewyn and Ser Barristan standing guard at the door, their faces masks of unreadable expressions. They looked at Jon with shock, and only then did he realize that it was the first time in days that he had left his bedchambers, despite the maester's orders. He cared not for that right now.

Nevertheless, something was different than that of in his dream, the door was closed. Maybe it had been just a dream, after all.

But then Lewyn Martell spoke, "My prince," his voice was forbidding, "You should not go inside."

He could hear muffled noises from within, most likely the king was awake. If so, why did they not let him in? "Why not? I assume his grace is awake already." He confronted.

Ser Barristan gave him an odd look, "His grace does not wish to be disturbed at the moment." He looked at Jon from head to toe, as if examining him, "I suppose you should go back to bed now, my prince. The hour is early and you ought to be resting."

"I'm tired of being bound to my bedchamber, Ser. Now, if you'd let me, I need to see the king." He insisted.

Ser Barristan replied his earlier words that the king did not wish to be interrupted, and then Prince Lewyn offered to escort him back to his chambers. Stiff and reluctant, he let the Dornish prince marshal him back to his chambers.

But even laying in his bed, he still felt that something was not quite right. He wished he could remember more of his dream, of what he had found in Rhaegar's room, but he failed to recall. All he knew was that it had horrified him greatly. His dream had been vivid up to a point, he did recall everything before he had entered the room, but not much afterwards.

Lewyn stayed there and made sure that he had gotten to his bed. The knight even poked the dying fire in the hearth so it would warm up the room. Jon was already back to his groggy status, and the warmth of the furs did little to wake him from the upcoming slumber. Finally he gave up to sleep, all while aware of the old knight's presence in his room.

Once he was asleep, he dreamt, though not of his father's bedchambers. He dreamt he was in Red Keep, in the Great Hall. The Iron Throne loomed above him, making him feel so small. The hall was hot, and empty of people, but it was still full of dreads.

On the Iron Throne, there was not a man, but a corpse. A malformed and gnarled corpse, with a hideous scar in his torso. His hair was a tangle of colorless ropes, his eye sockets hollow. The hall was no longer empty at all. All around Jon were corpses, one burnt so badly that even his bones looked molten, clad in a familiar half-melted armor. There was a woman as well, regal even in death, she had thin snow white hair and wore a bloody dress that had previously been white. She stood at the foot of the throne, looking sadly at the crowd before her.

It took Jon way too long to find the source of the heat, but when he did, he was left in awe. Instead of dragon skulls and bones, there were real dragons. All of different sizes and colors, some old and some young, but they were all magnificent.

Looking back at the throne, Jon saw that the previous corpse had changed, it was now an even more disfigured one, and the barbs of the Iron Throne had cut his rotten flesh and left bloody stains at their wake. His hands were spread open, also gored by the barbs. The woman was gone as well, but there was no one in her place.

Suddenly the closest corpse, the one with charred bones, turned to Jon and called his name. Oddly, it sounded like Aegon's voice.

"Jon," he said as he shook him. "Jon!" He exclaimed, "Wake up, Jon!" It was Aegon.

He opened his eyes to see his older brother in front of him. "What?" He groaned, still sleepy.

"It's Father," Aegon replied, his voice stern.

Suddenly it all flew back to Jon, his wolf dream. The way he had laid on the king's bedside and watched the maester do his work, it had been no ordinary dream.

Without hesitation, he jumped out of his bed, half-dressed from his earlier journey to the king's chambers. He did not bother with a jerkin nor a cloak, he only pulled his boots on and hastily ran a hand over his hair before gesturing for Aegon to leave. There was no sign of Lewyn, but Nym was waiting outside impatiently. It was obvious that she had dressed hastily as well, she had a loose tunic on that curiously looked like one of his or Aegon's own tunics. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, tangles nesting within the black locks.

Aegon was much in the same condition, his silver hair was more of a mess than Jon's own hair, and his eyes were bloodshot. However, he was fully dressed and even had a fur cloak on.

"What exactly has happened?" Nym demanded from Aegon. It seemed that he had been the one who had gathered them.

"I told you, I don't exactly know, but he's badly injured. I just heard noises and peeked at the door, Arthur didn't let me inside." Aegon explained as they hurried up the steps.

Jon was just as stressed, but he kept his voice even, "He'd hurt himself." He briefly assumed, not even mentioning how he knew it.

Both his siblings gave him a questioning and concerned look, but before they could ask a thing, they had come across Oswell and Ser Barristan. The latter was just as forbidding as he had been before, with Jon, and looked at them with a sympathetic yet cold look.

Aegon took the lead and used his lord's voice to have the knights let them inside. Ser Oswell, however knew this trick enough to not fall for it, "You ought not to be here." He coldly responded.

"Does the queen know of this?" Aegon demanded.

To his credit, both knights looked jumpy then, obviously Mother was not supposed to know. Jon took the bait, "Maybe we should tell her of this, though I'm sure she would not be pleased." He threatened. Normally, he would not say such thing, but these knights were clearly trying to keep them away from their father.

The Kingsguard members shared a look, "Fine," Oswell breathed, "Go in, but tell nothing to the queen, not yet."

While he was glad for having gained a passage, he did not know why Mother had not been told. Was she not supposed to be the first one to know when something happened to her husband?

All those thoughts were washed away when they finally entered. Just as in his wolf dream, he could smell blood in the air. The room itself was the mess he remembered it to be, filled with Kingsguard knights. To Jon's shock, Ghost was there, laying at the bedside just as Jon had in his dream. The sight made him feel cold despite the unbearable heat of the room. Maester Luwin was still there, mixing some herbs to put them on Rhaegar's wound. From where they stood, they did not see the king completely, in truth, all Jon saw was tangled furs that covered his body. He was in fact remembering his dream when he tried to picture his father's condition.

"Seven hells," Aegon muttered under his breath.

It was only then that they were noticed. Arthur whipped his head at Aegon's voice, his eyes wide with alarm and something like guilt. "You must not be here," he said, repeating what Jon had heard at least a dozen times during the past hours.

"What has happened?" Nym asked, this time hoping for more information.

Arthur leveled them all with a stern look, and Jon even caught him glimpse at Ghost, who was curled next to the bed. At last, he gave in and sighed, "He wanted to cut his wrist."

Nym and Aegon were deeply shocked, and they did not try to hide it. Jon was only a bit shocked, though. He had already known that his father had hurt himself, but he had not known that killing had been his intention. "Why?" Aegon managed to ask, eyes wide with horror.

"He felt...guilty." Arthur replied, his voice no louder than a whisper, "And I failed to help him."

Jon had known that his father had changed, he had seen it for himself about a week ago. But ever since, he had not seen him anywhere, as if he had melted into the ground. Sometimes, Jon wondered if his presence had been a hallucination of sorts. Yet, even if he had truly regained his senses, he still had problem believing that he would ever attempt to kill himself. But then again, what did he know of the old Rhaegar Targaryen?

Whatever the case was, here his father lay, bloody, and unconscious from the severe blood loss. Had they not have enough tragedy for a whole life? One would think so, after what had happened to Jon himself.

"How is he now?" He heard himself ask.

The knight looked at his king with in a longing gaze, "We can't say right now. He has lost too much blood."

Jon hated blood, he was not afraid of it, he just despised it. It was something that its loss would kill any man, rich and poor, old and young, all of them could not live without it. Great warriors and wise kings could die from the loss of it alike. Sometimes he wondered if it was blood that truly ruled the realms of men, instead of men themselves.

 ** _Kaleb:_**

Kaleb was happy with himself. He had managed to win Daenerys over, and with the princess came her brother, Viserys. He had entertained the young dragon princess with his tales of the lands beyond Westeros. It had not been that hard, though, for the girl was young and her head full of dreams.

And Viserys wanted good counsel, which Kaleb provided him. Sadly, the prince was way too upright to do anything but to rule justly in the name of his elder mad brother. Had it been anyone else, they would have had the throne by now. But Viserys saw no exceptional opportunity in his brother's long absence. He was just like Elijah, always the moral one who tried to fix Klaus's wrongs. _Too decent to survive_ , Kaleb mused.

However he was curious to meet this infamous king who had led many lives to misery. He seemed just like Kaleb's type, they could become good friends at some point. Even that boy's letter was a genius plan, he had to admit. Let everyone believe the danger has passed and then make your move. This King Rhaegar was someone Kaleb liked to meet as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, he had met some other useless people instead. Stefan Targaryen for one, the funny part was that the vampire was now hanging out with the other princess, the Dornish one. She seemed too energetic and defiant to be the young vampire's type. But, on the other hand, was Daenerys _his_ type?

Before seeing Stefan, he had almost regretted choosing his host's name instead of his own name. But now, he was happy that he had chosen Kaleb over Kol. It was amusing to see Stefan look at him without knowing his real identity.

And then came the disturbing Matt Donovan, with a party of Southron flowers. He, too, did not recognize him, and why would he? Kaleb was a witch, and even that was not known to anyone, while Kol had been a dead vampire for over a year now. A dead vampire that his mother somehow shot him back in time in the process of placing him into his new body.

He wondered how many of them were out there, and whether or not his mother and Fin were amongst them. He hated having his senseless brother and domineering mother there. He hated having anyone there, in truth. He wanted to conquer this timeline all by himself, now he had some annoying people to deal with. Not that he did not enjoy torturing them with some medieval devices, but still.

Right now, he was going to attend a meeting between Viserys and his most trusted councilors. Griffjon was there as per usual and so was Varys. Surprisingly, Rhaenys was there, too. The Dornish princess was still in her mourning clothes, she had not had the time to change. However simple, she still looked exquisitely beautiful.

She looked more positive than all others combined. _No wonder_ , Kaleb thought, she had been with the always optimist Stefan Salvatore. It was not hard to read their faces at all, Kaleb could easily say what they made of Aemon's letter. Viserys wanted to be hopeful but he knew his brother far better than to trust some words written on a piece of paper. Griffjon was even more cynic, he was also oddly forlorn; a part that Kaleb did not understand. Varys was most likely considering both possibilities, as he always did.

Kaleb put on an expression of pessimism and doubt, much like the one of Griffjon's. He had to blend in, after all. Viserys seemed to like the fact that Kaleb supported him in this case, and nodded faintly at him. _Naïve princeling_ , he smirked inwardly.

"What do you make of the situation?" Viserys asked, going straight to the point.

Griffjon laughed bitterly, "What should we make of it? It's another one of his tricks. And worst of all, he's using Jon to achieve this." Despite the rage and the forced laugh, he was sad underneath. Seriously, what made him sad?

Viserys only turned to Varys, the perfumed eunuch. The Spider spoke up as softly as ever, "I'm afraid it's still too soon to say, my prince. I cannot be sure of anything unless one of my little birds has confirmed it. We must wait for their chirps, I believe."

It was Rhaenys's turn, "Do you not want to give him a chance? It might be true." She protested.

Viserys leveled her with a caring and sympathetic look, "You don't know what your father is capable of, dear niece." His voice was kind, but there was a sullenness to it.

Rhaenys was about to protest when Griffjon joined in, "Prince Viserys speaks true, the king is deep into madness, too deep that he cannot be pulled out in such ways." That was quite disappointing, Kaleb had to admit. Poor Rhaenys did not stand a chance.

But he was wrong, she did not give up. The princess folded her arms and gazed at her uncle mutinously, "Was it not you who went on about how sensible his brother used to be? Or have you conceded defeat, Uncle?" Her voice was challenging.

If there had been a hint of sadness in the Hand's face, now it was quite visible. The prince was not much better, either. Rhaenys had added some tragedy and drama to their conversation. Kaleb could not be amused more. Finally Viserys exhaled audibly, "You're right, Rhaenys. But it's complicated, more than what it seems. Your father," he paused, looking for a mild way to put it, "Is no longer the man he once was. Aye, I did speak highly of his youth, but it had nothing to do with the present. He is a mad man now and I doubt anything can change that." The last statement was completely frustrated. Good thing Daenerys was not there, otherwise it would have broken her heart. She oft babbled about how Viserys thought it possible to cure her eldest brother.

Rhaenys's eyes darkened, they were now black, no hint of the usual purple of her eyes. But to Kaleb's disappointment, she did not have an answer to that. She just looked hurt.

When Viserys's eyes finally hovered to Kaleb expectantly, the room was utterly silent. However, the young man did not ask him his opinion on what the truth was, "What do you think we should do?"

Was it not clear enough? No, Kaleb supposed. These were honest people, well, mostly. But anyways, they could not even think of actually being cunning. It was embarrassing, a mad man had outwitted these people so easily. They had to improve in order to survive. Kaleb, however, wanted them to find out the answer themselves. Or at least, think they had done it using only their own brain -if such thing existed at all.

"Do you truly believe that it is all a façade, my prince?" He asked, only wanting a confirmation. Viserys nodded without wavering, whatever doubt he had at the beginning, had faded. "Then think of how you will confront your brother." Kaleb offered.

His immediate response foiled his hopes, "I will write to him and demand his immediate return. He will have to explain for this."

Even Varys shook his head at that, "My prince, that won't be wise. His grace already believes that you are plotting against him. His reaction would not be pleasant." He advised.

"We will call a council, a great council, if needs be. They will agree to depose him." The Hand countered, he was just as fool as the rest of them; nevertheless, his words could be useful in some ways.

"The king would not go down so swiftly if he knows that you're overthrowing him, my lords." Kaleb said, it seemed that they were not going to find a way -a _canny_ way- by themselves.

"He already suspects it. Because it is the same thing he wanted to do with our own father." Viserys frowned, "And there are other differences as well, he trusts no one. At least Aerys did have some trusted men that one could use for their own gain."

" _There is_ Salvatore." The Hand pointed out.

Kaleb was not familiar with that name, but apparently Rhaenys was. She raised a brow, "Stefan knows my father?"

"Stefan? The knight that you brought with yourself?" Viserys questioned, "What does he have to do with this?"

It struck Kaleb a moment later. He gritted his teeth at the realization, that bastard was there as well. As far as he knew, their family name was Targaryen, but obviously they could not use it in the middle of true Targaryens. Salvatore certainly meant something to them both, maybe a fake name they had used before. But it was not important. The point was, the bloody idiot of a vampire had gained power before Kaleb had.

On the background, the others were little by little realizing that the two Salvatore's were actually related to one another. It would have been an amusing thing to listen to, had he not been so blind. Once more, Kaleb cursed himself for being so slow. Not only he had lost a golden chance to gain power, but he had not even known that Damon was there.

Seemingly, the vampire had befriended with both sides, the king, and his family. A fucking double agent. This had been Kaleb's plan. He should have had killed the vampire when he had the chance. At that bar, he had hesitated far too long, for his own delight, and he was paying for it now.

"You must inform Ser Stefan that his brother is also here. He might not know it." Griffjon said that and closed the subject.

There was a long silence before Viserys decided that they had a more urgent matter to tend to. "So you say that we keep my brother in the dark, telling him what he wants to hear, Ser Kaleb?" He asked.

At last he showed a hint of intellect, but too late for Kaleb's taste. Yet he answered to that question, "Yes, my prince, best you convince your brother that you have believed this _story_. Tell not a soul outside these chamber about it, not even this Damon Salvatore." Kaleb did not want the vampire to gain any more supremacy than he already had, "You'll never know where the king has spies." He cast a meaningful glance at the spymaster.

"And what should we do meanwhile?" Connington questioned.

Did he have to explain everything? They had to figure things out by themselves. "Do what you will, my lord. I'm sure you'll make a fine decision. You mentioned a great council." He was magnifying the man's cunning, if it even did exist.

"Gathering a great council takes time, and will attract too much attention." Viserys said. He was becoming calculating. Kaleb could not agree more. Besides, a great council was way too _democratic_.

"Then it leaves war and mutiny." Kaleb replied innocently.

Viserys frowned, "Aegon is not here. He might well be trapped in Rhaegar's clutch." What was wrong with _this_ prince? He could rule the whole realm by himself, and all he needed to do was to reach and grasp the ripe fruit.

"And who will guarantee that the crown prince would not follow his father and grandfather's suit?" Kaleb asked softly, in a matter-of-factly tone. "He is just a boy, even if rules, he would be needing a regent. Why not put an able king on the throne? One who can rule wisely all by himself."

Griffjon did not get it, "And who would be this person be?"

He made a dramatic pause and when he wanted to answer, the princess glared at her with a stern look. "It is my brother you are talking about, Ser. I can sit aside and watch as you conspire against my father, but I will not let you take away my brother's right to the throne." Her voice was a cold as ice, and as venomous as a viper.

Viserys seemed perfectly aware of the situation, yet he backed his niece. "That's right, Ser Kaleb. If we want to replace my brother, it should be his heir who ascends the throne and no one else."

Kaleb wanted to knock some sense into the young prince's head, he was a true idiot. "What if he is unfit to rule?" He asked, trying to make them see the point.

It was Varys who replied to that, "Prince Aegon is a capable young boy, there is no doubt in his ability to rule. I have seen that through the years as he grew up." He stated, earning a nod from the Hand.

"I seem to recall the same thing to be said about our current king, and look where we are now." He insisted.

To his credit, the air about them shifted. A flood of different expressions and emotions could be easily felt and seen. Viserys was rather shocked that Kaleb had said such thing. The Hand was flushed red from anger, his face could no longer be separated from his fiery red hair. Varys put on a shocked mask, though not half as melancholic as the prince's. Rhaenys was simply sad.

Gradually, Viserys's shock turned into anger, he leveled Kaleb with a fuming look to his eyes, "Leave," was all he said. But that was most surely a command, made by a furious dragon.

Sadly, no one in the room seemed to be on his side. Therefore he retreated outside, without a single word. He moved past the few guards who had been posted along the way. He passed the drawbridge and went back to his room in Maidenvault.

Had it been Klaus, he would have killed them all for this disrespect. Kaleb had little doubt that he would do the same if he was still in his old body. But no, he was a witch with limited abilities. Alas, this new body lacked the bloodlust his original one had. For the first time, he regretted being a witch and longed to be the original vampire he was. If he was still Kol, he could have had the Iron Throne itself. But now he had fallen to a lowly player who tried hard -and unsuccessfully- to gain a tad bit of power.


	23. Roaring

_**Chapter Twenty-Three: Roaring**_

 _ **Ned:**_

Ned was not sure what to make of the sounds that came from outside the chambers. It was early morning but he had been awake for quite some time. The only reason he had stayed in bed was Cat, he was afraid that the gentlest of movements would wake her up. But the sounds did not stop. He could hear distant muffled sounds of people talking, and footsteps pacing somewhere not so far away. The room next to Cat's bedchambers was empty at the moment, but the one next to it belonged to the king.

 _That mad monster_ , Ned thought at the notion. Lya insisted that he had gotten better, but Ned doubted it. All he remembered was the man coming to Jon's room the night he was so close to death. And all he had done was to stare at his son's numb body with blank eyes. That did not mean he had changed. However, Ned had not dared to say anything to Lya, his poor sister had looked quite buoyant and he had not wanted to crush her dreams.

The sound of footsteps grew louder and Ned realized it was another person, one coming closer to their chambers. It was not actually one, but three different people, all came and passed the chambers. Catelyn stirred in his arms and was awake within a moment. "Ned?" She mumbled, "What's it?" She meant the noise.

He did not know either. He gently kissed Cat's forehead and left her side, getting up. As he put on his breeches, Cat stayed in the bed, though now wide awake. "It's probably nothing," she objected, "Come back to bed."

As much as he wanted to do what he was told, he could not. He was the lord of Winterfell and the brother to the king's wife. Ned could not stop the disturbing thought that it had something to do with his sister. A few weeks ago, he had saw an angry bruise on her forearm while her sleeve had rolled up by accident. She refused to give any explanation for that, but Ned suspected what it had meant. Rhaegar was truly a monster, even worse than his father.

Finally he finished dressing and made to kiss Cat lightly on the lips. She was now putting on her thin robe, standing by the fire to warm herself. Inwardly, Ned cursed Rhaegar for separating them, at the moment, he wanted nothing more than to go back to bed with her.

Outside he found the usual two Kingsguards who would be protecting the king. This time it was Ser Oswell and Ser Barristan guarding the entrance. By the time Ned got in front of the two knights, he could hear muffled sounds from inside. He could recognize Luwin's voice, which made him more worried. What was the maester doing there?

He heard several other voices, but because of the heavy door placed in between, he could not put them to faces.

Just as Ser Barristan opened his mouth to say something, the door behind the knight opened in one abrupt motion. To his surprise, he saw Aegon's face, drained of all color. There was little he saw from the inside, but that was enough to make him feel relieved and nervous at the same time. Luwin was talking to a very fearful Arthur Dayne, while not a few feet away, Jon and Nym were talking in hushed tones, both walking towards the door.

The most horrifying -and relieving- part was the king. Ned did not see his face, but rather his tangled body amidst the furs and pillows. He was most likely ill or hurt in one way or another, and that made Ned satisfied. He could not help it, for it was the man who had hurt his sister so much. But the strangest part was the expressions on the royal children's faces, and the absence of Lyanna. Ned knew that she would not give up on Rhaegar, no matter how he abused her.

The prince's eyes widened at his sight. Not much later, his siblings saw him as well, both freezing with the same expression. Seemingly the other two man were completely unaware of his presence. However, it turned out that Arthur Dayne was not the only Kingsguard knight within. The White Bull himself emerged from another side of the room, brushing past the crown prince.

Next to him, the other two Kingsguards were as silent as the stone walls surrounding them, the young royals were not much better, either. It was the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard who broke the silence between them, "Lord Stark," he said ceremonially, grabbing Dayne and Luwin's attention.

"What is going on in here?" Ned demanded, a bit too harshly.

The old knight frowned at that, as if silently telling him it was no business of Ned's. "The king is ill, but it is nothing severe. Do not worry." It was an obvious lie, for Ned was able to read Aegon's expression, and he could see too many Kingsguards than necessary. Besides, he smelled a hint of blood, which would not be there if it was nothing serious.

However, he shrunk under the stern gaze of the aged knight and said nothing. Nonetheless he realized that Lya was not told of the situation, for everyone in the room looked skeptic from seeing Ned, and when he turned to leave, he heard a relieved sigh from Oswell Whent.

He continued his way down the hall, passing from Cat's bedchambers and then he went down the stairs. Lya had chosen her old bedchambers instead of some bigger one proper for a queen. "I prefer to live like a little girl again." She had reasoned, while a sad smile tugged at her lips.

Ned knocked at the door and waited. A young girl opened the door, revealing a very asleep Lyanna behind her. Apparently the girl was her handmaiden. "My lord," she muttered, afraid that she might wake her lady up.

"Can you please wake up her grace? I have something urgent to tell her." Ned pressed, but he did not use his lord's voice, rather a kind voice.

"My lord," she began to say, disapprovingly.

"Please, it is truly important." He cut her off.

She cast him a long look, only to find out that he would not leave until Lyanna was awake. Letting out a sigh, she motioned for him to wait outside as she roused her lady. Ned politely stood aside and surveyed the plain stone wall in front of him, as if it was the most lavish of tapestries.

Finally the maid came back and let him in. Lyanna stood there in a silk robe that covered nothing in particular. However, she invited him to a seat by the window as she took the other one. When Ned cast a meaningful look to the maid, Lya turned to her, "Tyna, you may go." She said with a smile.

Once the girl had left, his sister looked back at him with questioning eyes. "What is it, Ned?" Her voice was now edged with concern and uneasiness.

Ned took a deep breath before answering, "I went to Rhaegar's chambers," he started before deciding that it was not a proper way to start.

However, Lya cut him off before he could continue, "He's locked himself inside for days. Maybe you'll believe it now that you've seen him. He's..."

For a moment he suspected that she actually knew of this illness, but most likely she did not. "Lya," he stopped her, "Something has happened to him." He could not use any other prelude to that. Her eyes darted up in shock and alarm, and Ned saw that she might have known it was coming.

"How?" She asked.

Ned shrugged faintly, "I don't know. I just saw him in his bed with half of the Kingsguard by his side, they refused to give me any information." He replied guiltily, "The children were there, as well."

It did not take her even a second to spurt out of her seat and hurry for the door. Ned had to be quick to catch up with her. "Lya," he warned.

She just shook her head and continued her way. Once more, Ned went to the king's chambers. Lya was boiling with anger by then, "Why was I not told?" She demanded the two knights outside the chambers.

Ser Oswell paled, "Your grace," he started, but did not finish.

"Open the door," Lya barked.

Hesitantly, the older knight let them in, guilt written on his features. There was no sign of the twins or Aegon, but Jon's albino direwolf was still there. Lewyn Martell was standing in a corner, now accompanied by Gerold Hightower. All while, Arthur Dayne hunched over his king, face filled with self-reproach.

After examining all the people did Ned look down to the clutter around them. Clothes, plates, books, and other objects were scattered across the room. There was a single armchair overlooking to the window which Ghost had curled at its feet. And the most disturbing part was the dagger that lay in a pool of blood in a darker corner of the room. Ned could not take his eyes off it. He wondered what it meant, had Rhaegar done something to himself or he had been attacked?

Then he made himself to look away from the bloodied floor and to the king himself. He was buried in heavy furs, his face barely visible amongst the pillows, but it was just as white. His silver hair was scattered around his thin face, unkempt and knotty.

Lya gasped at the sight, rushing to her husband's side. She was still in the sheer robe that she had been wearing earlier, but none seemed to care. All the anger had faded from her features and it was now filled with fear and concern.

"Lyanna," Arthur Dayne murmured, in a barely audible tone.

She jerked up, looking at the knight, her eyes were full of hurt, "You promised me." She whispered accusingly.

He looked even more remorseful than he had been before, "I know," he said, "I failed you both." Lyanna did not answer to that, and the knight ghosted away standing next to his sworn brothers.

In the following moments, his sister seemed totally unaware of their presence, she had eyes only for Rhaegar. Lyanna knelt down by his bed, running a hand through his locks and whispering something to his ear, while a tear ran down her face. The scene was so unlike her that Ned doubted it was even real, maybe he was still asleep in Cat's bed, dreaming this strange dream.

The three Kingsguard members were tense and did not know whether to stay or not. Finally Lewyn Martell left the room, the other two following him not long afterwards. Ser Arthur cast a longing look to his king and queen before leaving as well. It was only Luwin and Ned who stayed behind. Ned for his sister and Luwin for the king.

The room was awfully hot for Ned, a fire burned high in the hearth and of course, the hot water from the springs coursed through the walls. He had not been there for long and yet he was sweating, as was Lya and even Maester Luwin. Yet there was not a single drop of sweat on Rhaegar's forehead, and even without touching him, Ned could say that he was most likely as cold as ice due to the loss of blood. Lyanna was still stroking the silver strands out of his face and murmuring encouraging words to him, as if he could hear them.

He did not how long he was just standing there, but he finally gave up and sat on a chair close to the bed, watching Lyanna. Not so long after that, the comatose king stirred slightly and Ned thought that he had seen him flutter his eyes. Lya seemed to take notice of that, as well, "Rhaegar," she murmured softly.

His eyes fluttered open, looking at nothing in particular, they were glassy and unseeing, much like the way Jon's had been not a week ago. Ned remembered the times that his nephew had had fits, the way he had held the boy tight and yet he trembled with a force that Ned had never seen before. Now the king's eyes were the same, seeing nothing as he tried to find Lyanna. He finally did, however, and he groaned when he did so. Lyanna shushed him and kept caressing him.

"It's cold," he finally managed to say, his voice was hoarse and croaky.

Lya eyed him worriedly, and put a hand on his forehead. She turned to where Luwin stood, "He's so cold," she said in a weak voice.

The maester rushed to the king, testing his temperature. "He has lost so much blood, your grace. All we can do now is to cover him with even more furs." He was already doing the task.

Rhaegar was now trying to stop the maester by stirring and tossing, "Don't," he said. Ned could not understand why he was protesting.

Lya looked at him disapprovingly, "Stop fighting it, Rhaegar." She ordered. "You've already done yourself so much damage."

Then it was clear to him. The king had wanted to kill himself for whatever reason he had deemed fit, and now he was trying to accomplish his task. Had his madness truly grown that much?

"No," the king rasped in protest to Lya's words. But he was in no shape to confront his determined wife.

Maester Luwin handed Lyanna a cup filled with some white liquid, most likely the milk of poppy. Lya gestured at Ned to help him and he held Rhaegar's head up as Lya made him take small sips from the cup. Most of it flowed down his chin but it was still enough to send him to a deep slumber.

Then Maester Luwin left the room to give them some space, stating that the king would sleep for some time and would not need much help. Ned wanted to leave as well, but Lyanna seemed so lost in her thoughts that Ned was worried about her, so he decided to stay, despite his unwillingness to be anywhere near Rhaegar.

All of a sudden, Lya got to her feet, looking around the room. She seemed as if she had just noticed the mess around her, "We need to clean this up." She whispered more to herself than to Ned. But he took the hint nonetheless, she wanted to divert her thoughts from the man who lay on the bed, and Ned was more than willing to help her.

He got to his feet as well, looking for somewhere to start with. There was simply so many things, in fact it seemed as if every single belonging Rhaegar had was now out there on the floor. Ned started by picking up a black jerkin which was torn in half for some unknown reasons. It did not look mendable, so he put in a corner to throw it away later. On the other side of the room, Lyanna was putting some fruits back to their plate which lay farther away.

One by one, Ned took care of the clothes, folding them in a neat pile and carrying them to the closet. He then found himself in front of where the bloodied dagger lay. He stared at it for a few long minutes, its red-stained blade shone under the firelight, a horrifyingly beautiful color. It was just the same color as the Targaryen dragon, dark red. The irony of it was that fire cast such a light to the blood and made it seem so magnificent. Fire and blood, Ned mused, it's the Targaryen legacy. Fire, blood, and madness it was, Rhaegar now represented all three of which.

Ned carefully took the dagger by its hilt, wrapping it in one of the clothes he had set aside. His hands had gotten sticky, and looking at them he realized he had some of the king's blood on them. He cursed inwardly. He had to call for a servant to clean up the rest of the blood later.

He wiped his hands clean with some water from the basin next to the bed. Sneaking a look at Lyanna, he found her organizing some books. But then she suddenly stopped, staring blankly at one of the volumes, it made Ned curious as well. Lya let out a deep sigh before getting to her feet, making her way to the hearth. In one determined move, she threw the whole book into the flames, her face empty of any expression.

Ned was now boiling with curiosity but Lya did not look like she would be willing to answer any sort of questions about the book she had just burned. His sister then went back to her work as if nothing had happened, but there was a look on her face, one of utmost relief.

 _ **Tywin:**_

Tywin Lannister was breaking his fast when a knock on the door came. His squire Lucas opened it to reveal the ever clumsy Caroline Forbes. The girl was in fact in Cersei's service, but his daughter used her mostly to run messages and such, for she was too vexed by the girl's ineptness. She had proved to be a good messenger for Cersei and a nightmare for Tywin, for she talked so much that Tywin had to agree with whatever Cersei had sent the girl to ask for, so that she would just shut her mouth.

Now she entered the solar, curtsying to him. However, for once she did not start talking immediately, maybe Tywin was blessed that day. "What's it, girl?" He asked impatiently.

She took a step forward and handed a parchment to the lord of the Rock, "It came from the capital today, my lord."

Tywin looked at it skeptically, the seal had been broken. "Who has read it before?" He demanded. He was very sensitive about being the one who broke the seal. The maester knew it as well, and he would never read the letters before his lord did.

The girl was uneasy, "Lady Cersei, my lord." She squeaked, without giving any further details.

Now that Tywin needed the girl to talk, she had shut her mouth and would not talk. It did not matter, though, he would punish his daughter later for being so brusque. For the time being, he turned back his attention to the parchments he held. The broken seal was that of the Targaryen dragon. As far as Tywin knew the king was currently in his wife's territory, so it had to be from the man's younger brother.

He seldom had any correspondence with the crown during the past years. There was little wonder at that, for the moment he resigned as Aerys's Hand, he gave up being in the favor of Targaryens. At least I was there to control Aerys's madness, he thought, but his son is worse than him and he has little interest in me. Tywin had been the one ruling Aerys's kingdom, but he was not there for the current king and the man let none control him.

He unrolled the parchment and started reading it. Its context was quite interesting to read. He had been summoned to the court for some unsaid reasons. The king's brother Prince Viserys, had insisted on utmost secrecy. Tywin was genuinely surprised that the prince had wished to include him in whatever he had been scheming for.

The Lord of Casterly Rock had little doubt what the matter was. It had been a time since his spies within the Red Keep had started sending him some interesting news about some plans and schemes brewing in the prince's private chambers. Although none of them spoke of any details, Tywin knew enough to develop a plan of his own. If he helped the prince rise against his brother and become king, then he would regain his and his family's place at court. Mayhap he could even wed Cersei to the new king, but that was rather unlikely to happen. Cersei had already lost her maidenhead and had a bastard of her own, so marrying a king in such condition would raise too much scandal.

His daughter had been foolish enough to lay with a man and doing nothing to stop his seed growing in her womb. She had been even more insisting on defending whomever the father was, she had refused to give his name to Tywin even after all these years.

But he needed his daughter to marry a lord of high rank, for he hated to have Tyrion as his son. Yet, with Jaime at Night's Watch and Cersei unmarried, he had no choice but to be humiliated by enduring Tyrion as heir. He had, a few times, considered renouncing both his remaining children's right to his title, and give the heirship to his brother Kevan. He was still pondering over that idea, but without much of a final decision.

Looking up, he saw Caroline Forbes standing there, she had not yet taken her leave. Tywin dismissed her instantly, waving the rude girl off. Then he looked at Lucas, "Tell my daughter to come here at once." He commanded. The boy nodded and left quickly.

He took a piece of parchment and started writing a reply to Viserys Targaryen's letter. Once satisfied with it, he rolled the parchment and sealed it with the lion of Lannister. He sent some servant to fetch the maester and gave the letter to the man, "Send it to King's Landing immediately with your fastest raven." He told the old man.

The maester nodded and left him with a bow, walking back to the rookery to send the requested raven. Moments later, Cersei walked in, a cold expression on her face.

Tywin signaled for her to sit, and she did so. Not a second sooner than she had settled down, she poured herself a cup of wine and drank deeply from the red liquid. Tywin could not help but to worry over his daughter's newest habit, recently she had been not much better than Tyrion in that matter.

"You should not peek in my letters," he sternly started, "Especially those from King's Landing."

Cersei looked up at him with contempt in her emerald green eyes, "It was accidental." Her voice was void, but Tywin knew she was lying.

"Accidental or not, you are coming with me, to the court." He replied.

Cersei eyed him with a measuring glance, "And why is that?" She asked.

He refused to answer, his daughter knew better than to risk his anger. She nodded her head after a few minutes. Tywin spoke up once more, "Take one or two of your ladies and leave your son here in the Rock. We will be leaving in two days."

"I will not leave Joff alone, and you know this." She scorned him.

"I say he is staying and it shall be that way. The court has no place for highborn bastards." He told her in a tone that there was no insisting upon it.

Cersei did not seem pleased at all, but pleasing his daughter was not the top priority in his list. She needed to learn how to obey him in all matters. Besides, the boy truly had no place at court. He was a bastard to a lady of the Westerlands, with an unknown man for father. Yet, his daughter had been so ardent about her son that she had suggested legitimizing him for quite a few times. Tywin had no desire to do so, for multiple reasons. First, he did not like the boy at all and it would shame him to ask the king for such thing, and second, if he even asked Rhaegar for that favor, there was no saying how would that madman humiliate him. Tywin had known Aerys long enough as not to trust his son, both of whom crazed kings who enjoyed humiliating their people.

The current king and the previous one had been cruel monsters beyond words, yet the madness of Rhaegar Targaryen was truly shocking. While Tywin had never truly understood the man back in the days when he had been the Silver Prince, he had not at all anticipated such lunacy from him. He had half-expected him to be somewhat like Aegon the Unlucky, for Rhaegar's melancholy was well known to everyone in the realm. But now, he wondered if that had been no melancholy at all, but the madness he had been brewing underneath his calm mask. He was, after all, son of the Mad King, and even Aerys had showed some signs of greatness in his first years of reign, but it had been overridden by his endless madness. Tywin wondered whether or not Rhaegar's son Aegon was as mad as his father and grandfather. He knew little and less from the young heir of Rhaegar, except for the fact that he looked a great deal like his father. Had he inherited the man's brutality as well as his coloring? Tywin wished he could know.

For the time being, he needed to answer Viserys's call. Then, maybe he did not have to worry about Aegon's nature at all, for he would not be the future king of the Seven Kingdoms.

He summoned Lucas and had him pack his luggage for the trip southeast. Later that day, Caroline Forbes came back to inform him that she and Rebekah Mikaelson -one that Tywin had only heard the name of- would be accompanying Cersei in their trip. Tywin had already tasked Kevan with ruling the Westerlands during his absence. He did not trust Tyrion with a task like that, for he had little doubt that the castle would be filled with whores and emptied of wine when he came back.


	24. Two Mothers, Two Sons

_**Chapter Twenty-Four: Two Mothers, Two Sons**_

 _ **Elia:**_

Elia walked to her brother's favorite spot in the Water Gardens. She had instantly sought him out when she read Viserys's missive. It had worried her, especially considering that Rhaenys's raven had gotten to her not an hour before that. She had trouble keeping up with the sudden pace of the events during the last few months. First someone had tried to kill Rhaegar, and then Jon had been injured so gravely in the assassin's trial by combat. Following that, Lyanna had taken them north in hopes to help both of them, which by her reports had only worsened their situation. Jon had nearly died of a fever and Rhaegar had gone madder than ever. Now she had just received these two letters concerning her husband.

At first she had read Rhaenys's letter without understanding even a word of it, but after receiving Viserys's one all of the pieces had fallen into place and had angered her. She completely sided with her daughter on that matter, there was a little chance that Rhaegar was lying. In truth, Elia wanted nothing more than Jon's letter to be true.

Rhaegar had never loved her as his wife, but rather as his sister -and in a non-Targaryen sense- and neither had Elia felt a passionate fire for him. Yet, she cared deeply for the prince she had once married, and she wanted to see that Silver Prince come back.

Mayhap there was one thing she wanted more than that, and it was seeing her sole son again. She truly missed Aegon, the boy she never got to raise. From what Lyanna had wrote to her, it was clear that Aegon was a great prince and the perfect heir to the throne.

She did wish to see him upon the Iron Throne one day, but it was still too soon for that. Viserys wanted to dispatch his brother from the throne and put Aegon in his stead. It was similar to what Rhaegar had once planned to do with his own father, and Elia had to laugh at the irony of it. But she feared of what Rhaegar might do if he had not gained his senses yet. That would mean war, a war which Elia doubted Aegon would be willing to fight in, and Rhaegar would fight nonetheless. He would have his own son and heir executed for that. One did not have to be utterly wise to predict that, it was something Rhaegar had already attempted to do with Jon. And for that, Elia feared. She feared another Dance of Dragons, one bloodier than the last and crueler still.

Areo let her inside the balcony that opened to the gardens beneath them. Doran was there, watching the children and their caretakers play in the water. Elia rushed to his side, greeting him as briefly as possible.

"What is it, dear sister?" He asked her in a soft tone.

She held out the pair of parchments to him, "These," she said as he took the letters from her, "Came from King's Landing. Read them."

It took no more than a few short minutes for him to read, but to her, it seemed like days. Finally he looked up at her, "You believe the boy's words?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes, I believe Jon." She started, "However mad, Rhaegar cannot be so reckless to use him after all he had been through. Even if he has changed, there must be some parts of his old self deep inside his heart."

Doran did not seem as optimistic as her, but she knew he was easier to persuade than, say Oberyn. Her other brother was nightmare in the arguments, he would sooner die than to just agree with something, however reasonable. Yet even Doran did not like Lyanna and her children, and he hated Rhaegar the most. Save for Elia, there was only Uncle Lewyn who liked the northern she-wolf well enough.

"You don't believe it," she used his own tone while saying it.

Doran shook his head, "I cannot trust a young boy whom I don't know, and less so a man who I know well to be mad." He replied in his ever flat voice.

She looked at him disdainfully, "What if it was from Aegon instead of Jon? Would you still doubt it?" She retorted.

Doran leveled her with a wise look, "It is not about this lad, Elia, it is about the madman behind it. Rhaegar cannot change so suddenly, and while he is mad, he still has his cunning. I believe that he had subdued his son one way or another." Her brother reverted his gaze from her and back to the pools.

"And you still agree with what Viserys is planning?" Elia demanded.

He did not look at her when answering, "This is the most peaceful way of the things, Sister. Besides, it is Aegon who is to be king."

"Aegon will be king, but it's too soon. He is not yet even five-and-ten, Doran," she insisted, "Too old to have a regent and too young to keep the flatterers at bay." The queen was getting frustrated with her brother, "And as to the way of things, I disagree with that strongly. If what you say is true and Rhaegar is truly behind it all, then isn't it dangerous to claim Aegon as king? He is right there with him and anything can happen once Rhaegar is informed."

"Once he is informed," Doran repeated, "He would not be informed until it grows too late to do anything but accept it. He'll be sent to Dragonstone after that."

The same way Aerys was supposed to accept, but it never came to that, Elia recalled. "He is not a fool, you said so yourself, he still has men inside the court who would inform him. And the North itself is not so remote that none receives the news of lords marching to King's Landing." She reasoned.

"His Stark woman will keep him busy if she is truly so devoted to her children's sake." Doran calmly countered.

"She doesn't even know what is happening here, it will be too late by the time she finds out." Elia pursed her lips. What if Rhaegar had truly healed? Would he still resist the great council of the lords or would he accept it eagerly? In some ways, she believed he would actually like the idea if he was the Rhaegar she once knew.

Yet, she did not want Aegon on the throne just this soon, it was not the right time for it. Whatever the truth was, she needed to stop this madness before it made the realm bleed. There were only two ways for that, first to inform Lyanna -which would be dangerous in many ways- and second, going to King's Landing all by herself. She was still a queen, however forgotten, and she would persuade them. She needed to have some alliance, no matter what. And this was the hardest part. There was only one person she knew for sure would back her, and it was her daughter.

"I'm going to the court," she announced.

Doran flinched at her, "This is not our fight, Sister."

"This is my son, and my husband we are talking about, Doran. How can this not be my fight?" Elia shouted at him, finally losing her temper. "You can sit back and watch all you want. You and Oberyn can even laugh if it pleases you, but I cannot stay idle while you are risking Aegon's life, and taking away Rhaegar's throne."

She could catch a glimpse of Areo peeking in the balcony to see what was wrong. She paid him no heed as she turned on her heels and strode away. She opened the door to her chambers with one fast move, intent on packing right away. She did not even bother with a letter as she was readying herself for the journey north. She only needed one or two friendly faces by her side and no more.

It was not yet dusk when she and her two chosen friends started their journey on the very same ship that had brought Rhaenys north. She was so upset that she did not say goodbye to her brother or anyone in that matter, only tasking a servant to tell Doran of it when she was safely gone.

She paced on the deck restlessly, impatient to get to King's Landing, ignoring the fact that they were at least a fortnight away from the city. It had been a rash act, she knew, but unavoidable nonetheless. She needed to be in the capital before all those lords gathered to take the throne away from Rhaegar.

"Come and get some rest," a voice came from her back.

She turned to face Ashara's worn-out face, "I'm not tired." Her tone was solemn.

She gave her a faint smile, "You'll soon be. But if you don't want to sleep, then do something useful." Elia gave her a questioning look which she replied with an explanation, "Have you even thought of what to do once we get there? You've been absent from the court for about ten years, they will not take orders so easily."

Elia nodded, "I know," she said, "But what else can I do? Viserys is left in King's Landing to be Rhaegar's replacement and he has Jon Connington as his acting Hand. They are both stubborn people when it comes to Rhaegar, each in their own way." And each for their own reason, she thought to herself. Viserys felt responsible for what Rhaegar did to the realm, for he was his brother. Jon Connington was a more complex man, one that cared for the wellbeing of the king more than the realm itself. Elia knew of the man's true feelings about Rhaegar, it was beyond a mare friendship. Yet, they both were trying to take Rhaegar's crown from him and pass it to Aegon, which was highly unlikely of them. She shared her doubts with Ashara.

She considered it for a moment before replying, "Think about it, Aerys was supposed to end up in Dragonstone. But he remained a king, a mad one, and Jaime Lannister killed him to save the realm from further madness, or so he claimed. Now who is to say that what would happen to Rhaegar if he stays on the throne with his ever growing lunacy?" She questioned.

Elia gave her a curious look, "You say it is safer for himself if he is no longer the king?"

"Yes, they now have the power to overthrow him and save him from a worse fate. He stays king, and then one day someone will find his gored body one place or another." Her friend pointed out, she had a way with second guessing people's actions.

And she was right. Many compared Rhaegar to his father or Maegor the Cruel, looking at their fates, left little space for a different end to her husband's reign. Aerys was killed by his own sworn sword, stabbed in the back. Maegor's end had not been any better if not worse, he had died upon the Iron Throne. Some even claimed that Iron Throne itself had killed the tyrant king. Though Elia did not believe that theory, she still feared for the fate that would befall the current king. As far as she knew, Rhaegar's Kingsguard was trustworthy, with yet another man who cared deeply about the wellbeing of his king.

Alas, it was not always the Kingsguard who could plot against the king's life. There were simply too many lords and nobles who wished Rhaegar dead. Lannisters sought their golden son's revenge, Arryns hated Targaryens for killing off their heir at Trident, Baratheons had every reason to detest Rhaegar, and Greyjoys had already rebelled once. The worst part was that even Starks and Elia's own brothers loathed the sight of Rhaegar upon the throne. The Starks still had very good reasons to hate the dragons, for the cruel fates of Rickard and Brandon Stark. Yet Martells had only Elia's dismissal from the court to begin with.

"Then what should I do? Sit back and watch as my brother does?" She asked her, looking for further advice.

"Do take your time, but don't be fully idle. See if you can get the truth of Jon's letter. There would be no place for arguing if we know for sure this is no trick." Her friend replied wisely.

Elia was almost certain that Jon had written those words out of his own freewill. Yet there was still a doubtful tiny part of her mind that was cynic. "What if it's not true? What then?" She whispered.

Ashara cast her a long observing look, "Then I guess there will be little to do. Theirs is the best way to deal with Rhaegar." She sounded optimist nevertheless.

 _ **Lyanna:**_

Lyanna was once more back on Rhaegar's side, having done her part in cleaning the room. Ned had finished the other side of the room, yet there was a disturbing part that remained. The pool of dark red liquid seemed to laugh at Lyanna's face, for being so stupid and careless about Rhaegar.

She had left him when he had needed her the most, and had sent Arthur off as well. He had promised her to keep Rhaegar safe, to save him from his own foolishness, yet he had let his king do that thing to himself. She was angry, angry at Rhaegar, at Arthur and every single knight who had guarded Rhaegar's chambers, but most of all, she was angry at herself.

She felt a guilty satisfaction, nonetheless, for she had just ridden themselves of the most torturing object in their lives. Watching the flames engulf those old and nonsense prophecies had given her a sense of solace and contentment. That book with its yellowed and crumbling pages had been the source to half of Rhaegar's madness, and all the hate he had had for Jon.

She heard the sound of a conversation from without and soon the door opened to reveal her youngest son. Ghost instantly ran to his master, forcing Jon to pat him on the back. Yet, he did it absently, all while looking from Lyanna to Rhaegar and back to her. Apparently, he knew of Rhaegar's condition, for he showed no surprise. Then she recalled that Ned had told her the children had been there. They knew, she assumed, and they didn't come to me.

In truth, Jon seemed more surprised by her presence there, his lips parted at her sight, "Mother," he said, in a hoarse tone.

Only then did she realize it was the first time she saw him in days, and he had improved. Not a fortnight before, he had been at the verge of dying, and now he was here, stronger than ever. But his was no longer a physical pain -as it had been for the past few months- it was some emotional pain that he was going through.

Jon looked at Ned with accusation in his eyes. Ned replied that gaze with a stern one, challenging him to say something. Jon, however, turned his attention back to Rhaegar and Lyanna. "How is he?" He asked, whispering, as if he was afraid he would wake Rhaegar.

"He woke once," she started, in the same soft voice he used, "But Luwin gave him milk of poppy." Jon nodded, hesitantly coming forward. He looked afraid of getting close, as if he would shatter Rhaegar any moment. Lyanna stretched her hand out, encouraging him.

All while Ghost padded silently around the room, restless and patient at once. It was strange for her, to see one of the direwolves inside her husband's room. Especially Jon's one, the stranger part was the absence of Nym's one. It seemed to her that Ghost had a closer bond to his master's father than Shadow did. Or merely Jon was more concerned than Nym.

At last, Jon got where she sat by Rhaegar's bed. She could see him closely now, his worry etched eyes, which had an edge of bewilderment to them, and every single drop of sweat on his pale complexion, shining like crystal drops, she could see how untended his hair was, curls covering his face. Yet he was also strong, so painfully strong. She could see what others failed to notice in him, for it was deep hidden beneath his coloring, but she could see it nonetheless. He resembled his father in stature and more so in intellect. He and Rhaegar were truly alike, more than any of them thought so. Standing there above his father, they looked like a bizarre vision. She could well imagine Rhaegar's soul looking down at his old body through his new one. It was truly peculiar, but she could not help it, the way Jon's eyes swept over his father's body was enough for her to think so.

She expected him to say something, or do something at least, but he just stayed there, looming over Rhaegar and staring distressfully at him. Occasionally, he would glance back at Ghost, in a confused manner.

Finally, she noted his behavior as strange and spoke up, "What's it?" She asked softly, so low only he could hear.

He looked up at her in a startled manner, seemingly he had forgotten her presence by his side. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts, "Nothing," he shook his head, ridding himself of whatever thought he had.

"Tell me," she insisted, not wanting him to be so disturbed.

He cast another glance at his direwolf, "I...it's ridiculous." He murmured, so that Ned could not hear him from where he sat.

Lyanna took the gesture and turned to Ned, asking him to give them some privacy. Ned did so, however reluctantly. Then she turned back to Jon, who had grown even more troubled by then. She motioned for him to sit on a chair next to her. When he did so, Ghost finally calmed down, coming to rest at his feet.

"Now tell me of it," she gently requested.

Instead of looking at her, he fixed his eyes on his white direwolf. "I think there's something wrong with me." He muttered, his voice barely audible.

She felt a sense of dread build in her, had he started thinking like Rhaegar? Did he intended to do the same thing to himself? "Jon," she said firmly, "There is nothing wrong with you."

But to her surprise, he gave her a ghost of a smile, "Not in that sense," he assured her, "But not so far away. I think I'm losing my mind." His voice bore a solemn tone, suitable for a grown man, not a young boy his age.

She reached to put a hand on his, feeling the hot skin beneath her fingertips, "What made you think so?"

He gulped, still looking away from her, "When we came to Winterfell, I started having dreams," he paused, "Visions, maybe, they are so vivid." _No,_ she thought with horror, _not this again, not after I burnt it down!_

He continued, "At first I didn't understand them, but whenever I slept, I would dream of hunting in the godswood or somewhat like that. Then, when I fell ill, they grew more intense, and I was dreaming day and night. And then I found out I was Ghost, it wasn't like watching him, I was him, inside him. I saw through his eyes and felt what he felt." His voice had dropped to a whisper, his eyes closed. Next to him, the direwolf was looking up at him curiously.

Lyanna did not know what to say, "But they're dreams, Jon."

"It was what I thought at first," he replied, "But when I fell sick, I dreamt things I later found out were true. I dreamt of the night he came to me," he gestured at Rhaegar, "The night I was almost dying.

"And then, today, I was forced to believe it's all real. I dreamt of being Ghost and coming here, finding Father and the Kingsguard in this room. I saw that Ser Lewyn and Ser Barristan were guarding the room. And when I woke up, I came here and found them on guard. Everything was just as it had been in my dream." He swallowed hard, finally meeting her gaze. His eyes were stormy and anxious, maybe even scared. Lyanna had not seen him scared for a very long time, since he had been a little boy.

She squeezed his hand, but did not say anything immediately. She needed to think on it. Besides, it all sounded familiar to her, by some unknown reasons. "Is it always Ghost?" She questioned.

"What?" He asked, startled by her question.

"In your dreams, are you always Ghost? I mean, you're not any other animal, or any other one of the wolves?" She clarified.

Jon shook his head, "No, it's always him." Then, after some thinking, he turned to her once more, "Am I going insane?" His voice was doubtful and thin, afraid that the answer would be yes.

She lifted her hands to cup his face, turning him so she could stare right into his eyes, "No," she soothed him with a resilient voice, "If you were going insane, you wouldn't feel it. And besides, it wouldn't be real." She heartened him. "There has to be some explanation for it, but I don't think losing your mind is one of them." She forced a smile to her lips.

He replied that smile, although faintly, but it meant that he was encouraged nonetheless. As long as he did not think himself crazed, he would be well. Meanwhile, she could try and find an explanation for it, and maybe even a way to stop it, if he so liked. However, the matter was, she was not sure that Jon would truly stay so optimist. With his father and grandfather's madness, and that of his forbearers, he could easily believe that it was yet another side of Targaryen lunacy. Knowing how similar he and Rhaegar were, she had an unpleasant suspicion of what Jon would do then. She might as well as need to watch him closely, and assign guards for him. Not that the guards helped, Arthur was a case in their failure.

Jon did not leave her side, he even let her continue squeezing his hand. He was warm under her touch and she could feel every portion of his hand on her palm. Its skin was half-hardened by the time he spent in the training yard, but his finger remained smooth and soft. She could feel the cut he had taken while fighting Bracken's sword, it ran from one side of his palm to another, the skin around it was calloused. It felt just like having her old Rhaegar back, except for his black hair and grey eyes. Even his fingers were like those of Rhaegar's, they were lean and slender, perfect for plying the harp. Lyanna wondered how she had not noticed all those things before.

Then she looked at Rhaegar once more, trying to compare father to son. Had it been fourteen years ago, she would have said that they looked just alike. But it was no longer the case, while Jon resembled his father, it was his father who had changed. Rhaegar looked even worse than yesterday. Whatever color his cheeks had had back then, it had now drained, his skin a deathly white. His cheeks were still hollow and thin, showing the shape of the bones underneath. His eyes were closed and yet they had a shade of black about them, a disturbing contrast with his bloodless skin. The smell of blood was still strong and thick in the air, hanging there like a veil of death. Even in his sleep, Rhaegar seemed troubled, a twitching frown on his features.

She found Jon looking at him with darkened eyes and a very familiar melancholy. The Stark queen could not help but to wonder whether or not Rhaegar was aware of Jon's presence in the room, and the way he was looking at him. Once more, she felt like it was an illusion, an unreal image.

Mayhap she was the one losing her mind, or it was just all of them. Rhaegar had lost his a long time ago, and now Jon was seeing those strange dreams. Not that she thought him mentally ill, but it all had a woeful look to it, even her newly-found mad thoughts.

It was about noon when they were disturbed again, this time by Ser Gerold. He had brought them a tray of food, insisting that they should eat. Lyanna felt no appetite at all, yet she forced herself to eat for Jon's sake. He seemed just as dismaying, but she had him eat something for she feared for his own health. He had just gotten rid of a terrible illness and she did not want him to be plunged in that hell again. They ate in silent, mostly fingering at their foods, rather eating anything.

She sipped at the spiced hot wine, trying to ease her mind and purging the dark thoughts away. They were still sitting at the table when a soft knock came, she called in the visitor, and it turned to be Aegon. He was more collected than his brother, yet there was an unmistakable concern in his eyes. However, the way he looked at Jon, made Lyanna doubt whether that apprehension was directed at Rhaegar.

"Mother, Jon," he greeted in a hushed voice, "How is it going?" He did not even mention Rhaegar, rather generally pointing at it.

"He is no different than the morning," Jon spoke up, his voice just as quiet.

The older boy cocked an eyebrow, "You mean he sleeps." He pointed out.

"He woke up once, though," she softly threw in, "But we gave him milk of poppy. I don't think it would do for him to be awake just now." She did not mention it was mostly because of his emotions rather than the pain.

Aegon nodded, and after a moment he began talking again, "I came here so...you know, you can get some rest," his voice had a hint of awkwardness, he had never been the one to offer help in such a grim and open way. "I can watch over him and make sure he doesn't do anything...foolish." His voice got more confident by the end, having found the right way to offer it.

"Thank you, but I can't leave him now," she replied, "Not just yet."

Jon spoke up, backing his brother, "You are tired, get some rest and when he wakes you can be there for him. Otherwise you might fall asleep once he woke." He reasoned.

"But," she started.

Aegon cut him off, "We'll take care of him, do not worry." Jon nodded his assent at his brother's words.

"He'll be fine," he said.

"You need your sleep, as well, both of you." She countered.

Jon frowned slightly, "I don't think I can sleep anytime soon." The meaning underneath was quite clear to her, he was afraid that those dreams would come to him once more.

So, she agreed, however reluctant. Her boys were firm about their decision and would not let her stay. Aegon even tasked Ser Gerold to make sure she went to her chambers and got some rest.


End file.
